Fooled Around and Fell in Love
by secretmonkey
Summary: Lauren's had about all she can take of Amy complaining about Karma. but when she takes matters into her own hands it leads to some complications neither girl was expecting.
1. Accidents Happen

_**Decided to get in on the Cooperfeld fun. It's a oneshot, but if people like it I could keep it going. Review and comment and let me know.**_

The first time, according to Lauren, was an accident.

If, by accident, you mean she'd had just about enough (or, actually, _way way way_ past enough) of listening to Amy carry on about Karma.

"She should be over it. She should understand why I _had_ to go. She should be _grateful_ I left or else we might never be able to be friends again except she's not talking to me and she's _so_ mad and maybe now we're never going to be friends again and she shouldn't be but she is and maybe I should just apologize even if I don't mean -"

The first time - the first time Lauren grabbed Amy's face in her hands and kissed her - it was an accident, an impulsive slip (of the tongue) caused by a brain on Karma overload (hers, not Amy's) (Amy's brain could, seemingly, take _endless_ Karma) and she hadn't meant _anything_ by it.

The second time - which came about five seconds after the first and had a lot more of Amy's hands on Lauren's hips, holding her in place, and a _lot_ more of those same hands drifting perilously close to Lauren's ass - was not an accident.

Neither was the third. Or the fourth. Or the fifth. Or the sixth until it was interrupted by Farrah banging on Amy's bedroom door, the noise startling both of them back to some sort of… sense… just enough to send Lauren hurrying through their bathroom and into her own room and into her bed and under her duvet.

She stayed there through dinner ("stomach ache," she claimed) and through dessert ("too many empty calories") (" _and_ stomach ache") and through Farrah and Amy watching a movie downstairs ("if you've seen one _Hunger Games_ you've seen them all") and Farrah finally coming upstairs and going to bed and the lights dimming in the hall and then - and _only_ then - did she think it was safe to come out.

Amy standing in the doorway of their bathroom made it somewhat less… safe.

Amy crawling into bed next to her with only a whisper ("stomach ache, my ass") and pressing her lips all along Lauren's neck and down along her collarbone and her hands sliding up under the loose fabric of the tiny blonde's shirt…

That all made 'safe' something of an afterthought.

And when Amy slid _down_ the bed and slipped _up_ between Lauren's legs, _that_ made _everything_ an afterthought.

* * *

They didn't talk about it, not even a little.

It didn't come up at breakfast the next morning, even though Amy kept staring at Lauren with this look that made the other girl feel like she was on the menu.

Not that she minded.

It wasn't discussed on the ride to school, even though Amy's hand kept finding its way higher and higher on Lauren's thigh.

And yes, she was _so_ wearing a skirt tomorrow.

It never got mentioned as they walked from class to class, the subject was never broached as they sat through lunch together, even though Amy's hand found Lauren's under the table and their fingers laced together until Shane started looking at them funny, and it never came up during gym class or _after_ gym class in the locker room.

Even though Lauren spent a very inapproriate amount of time taking furtive side eyed glances at Amy's ass.

Not that Amy minded.

(Not that she didn't do the same.)

They didn't discuss it on the way home and that, Lauren realized quickly, had less to do with them just not talking about it and more with the fact that they (quite literally) bumped into Karma on the way out of the building.

"Hey," Karma said and "Hey," Amy said and "Oh for _fuck's_ sake," Lauren muttered under her breath as she pushed past Karma and out to the parking lot, doing her level best (which wasn't even _close_ to good enough) to not acknowledge the feeling seeing the two of them even sorta together brought up in her.

Lauren didn't do jealousy.

But that night after Farrah went to bed, she sure as fuck did _Amy_.

Twice.

 _Take that, Ashcroft_.

* * *

"We should probably -"

"If you're going to say 'talk about it', you can just shut _that_ shit down right now," Lauren said, cutting Amy off as they stood at the sink cleaning vegetables for dinner.

It had been a week and they hadn't discussed it once and the world hadn't ended so Lauren saw no need to mess with… chatting… now.

"I was going to say prep some extra carrots," Amy said. "Your dad's coming tonight and those are like the only veggies he eats, so…"

"Oh," Lauren said. "Right. Carrots. Exactly." She turned to the fridge and pulled out the bushel and dropped it on the sink. "Good thinking," she said, immediately regretting it because it was a compliment _and_ it was a compliment on _thinking_ and if Lauren didn't do jealousy she did compliments even less.

Amy leaned against the sink for a moment and tried to plan what she was going to say but in the end, she was still _her_ , so..

"We _should_ probably talk about it though but only if you want to cause I think _I_ want to but if you don't, that's OK and… and…and... my mom won't be home from work for another two hours?"

Lauren glanced at her, staring over the top of a carrot. "Was that a question or a statement?"

"Statement," Amy said, sounding only slightly more confident. "Mixed with a question cause I don't _know,_ like I wouldn't want to assume that just because my mother's not here you want to -"

She had to reach a little, but Lauren got one hand around the back of Amy's neck and pulled the other girl's lips down to hers, the other hand grasping a hold of Amy's shirt and pulling her along, guiding her until Lauren felt her ass bump against the dining room table and she grabbed Amy's hands and placed them on her hips.

"Up," she said and Amy obeyed, lifting Lauren onto the table, bunching the tiny blonde's skirt around her waist in the process. "Good," Lauren said, putting both hands on Amy's shoulders with a wicked grin. "Now, _down_."

The carrots never did get washed.

* * *

"I hate her."

Amy rolled onto her side and looked at Lauren. It was the first time she could remember Lauren saying anything other than 'It's morning. Your bed. _Go_.' in the month or so they'd been doing this or the three weeks or so since Amy started spending the night.

"Who?" she asked (as if she didn't know.)

"Karma," Lauren said. "I hate her. And I know she's your best friend and I know she's your 'soulmate' and your other half and all that." She didn't look at Amy at all while she spoke, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. "But she's hurt you and yes, I know you've hurt her and you slept with her boyfriend but he's a douche and she's better off anyway. And I don't care if _you_ hurt _her_ because she's not…."

Amy waited. And waited. And waited some more.

"She's not what?" she asked, finally.

Lauren looked at her _then_ , rolling over to face her and even in the mostly dark, Amy saw the streaks of tears she hadn't _heard_ or _felt_ Lauren crying. "She's not _mine_."

It had been a month and they hadn't discussed it once and the world hadn't ended but now Lauren _had_ and Amy wasn't so sure the world _hadn't_ just stopped.

"If you want to go," Lauren said, "I under -"

The first time had been, according to Lauren, an accident.

This time, time number who-the-hell-knew, the first time Amy kissed her so gently and softly and clutched their hands together between them, was so obviously, _not_.

* * *

"I know you hate her," Amy said, literally from out of nowhere, and Lauren almost toppled over from the shock.

She was leaning against the nearest locker and waiting on Amy to change out her books so they could head to class, not that either one was in a hurry and not that either one _wasn't_ doing the mental math to figure out how long they could disappear into the janitor's closet before anyone would get suspicious.

"Hate who?" Lauren asked (as if _she_ didn't know.)

"Karma," Amy replied without hesitation. "You said it. The other night?"

Lauren rolled her eyes. The _other night_ … "That was like three _weeks_ ago," she said, eager to dismiss the conversation before it drifted to that _other_ thing she'd said the 'other night'.

 _She's not mine_

The other thing they hadn't talked about at all except sometimes, only if by talking you meant Lauren muttering the word ( _mine mine mine_ ) occasionally ( _every fucking time_ ) when Amy made her cum.

So, you know, maybe once or twice. A night.

"I know you hate her and I know you think we're bad for each other, but she's my best friend," Amy said. "And eventually, we'll figure it out and you're gonna have to deal with that cause I can't stay away from her and -"

Lauren didn't wait for the 'and'. "You did for three months," she snapped. "And it did you _good_."

Amy dropped the last of her books in her locker and turned to face Lauren. "If you'd let me finish -"

"I don't _have to_ ," Lauren said, cutting her off again. "I've heard it all. A dozen times. Probably more. I get it or, really, I get that _you_ get it cause, honestly? _I don't_ get it, but that really doesn't matter because in the end, nothing will ever come between you. Not even…"

Amy waited. And waited. And waited.

"I'm going home early," Lauren said, pushing off the locker and stalking off down the hall in the opposite direction of the janitor's closet. "You'll have to catch the bus."

* * *

Amy slipped into her bed well past the usual time, wearing far more than the usual clothes and Lauren noticed all that but not half as much as she noticed the _unusual_ way Amy slipped up behind her, curling her into spoons and lacing their fingers together as she spoke.

"Shut up," she whispered and Lauren started to protest that she hadn't actually said anything but then Amy continued, cutting her off at the pass. "Shut up and let me say what I was trying to say, OK?"

Lauren nodded.

"I know you hate her and I know you think we're bad for each other, but she's my best friend," Amy said, _again_. "And eventually, she and I _will_ figure it out and you're gonna have to deal with that cause I can't stay away from her."

Lauren rolled her eyes. _Silently._

" _And_ ," Amy said, "I can't stay away from you either. And I don't want to." She pulled Lauren tighter and whispered into her ear. "And I _won't_."

* * *

Somewhere between third and fourth period, Lauren decided it was all Karma's fault.

It wasn't one of her tougher decisions.

She was watching Amy - something she'd found herself doing a lot lately, even when the other girl was _clothed_ and not touching her and sometimes not even _near_ her - from across the hall, watching as the taller blonde, who somehow managed to seem _smaller_ by the day (every _new_ day when she and Karma aren't the _old_ her and Karma), pretended to dig through her locker, looking for… well…

Nothing.

She was looking for nothing and doing a bang up fucking job of finding it.

Lauren watched as Amy shuffled things around, never actually holding onto any of them long enough to even _look_ at them, basically bullshitting the entire thing. Amy was looking for something she didn't really need or she was never gonna find or that maybe didn't even _exist_ and, Lauren had noticed, she did that _a lot_. It was a stall, a time killer, a way to stay there - within range - whenever Karma was nearby. And there, Lauren saw, she was. Standing three lockers down, talking to Shane about their stupid band and which of them should be the stupid lead and which of them had stupider hair - regrettably, Lauren had to say Shane - and she couldn't really hear a word they're saying, but she didn't _have_ to.

She knew.

Stupid. Just… _stupid_.

Lauren watched as Karma and Shane finally drifted off down the hall - they would, no doubt, make it to class on time, which is more than she could say for herself or Amy - and _that's_ when Amy suddenly grew again, when she stopped being all hunched over and hunkered down, just one step away from crawling into the fucking locker and shutting the door behind her and _that's_ when Lauren decided that she'd had just about enough of that.

The bell - the fucking _gong_ , and that was one of the only things that made Lauren almost miss Principal Turner - sounded and they were officially late for class, but Turner or Penelope or whoever, it was still _Hester_ after all and even if it wasn't, even it if was a _real_ school where people actually went to class sometimes or carried around books for anything but show or actually had homework or something - _anything_ \- to occupy their time besides hooking up and talking _about_ hooking up and white parties and battles of the bands and every other ridiculous thing the Ashcrofts and Bookers and Harveys did, Lauren wouldn't have given even a single fuck.

It had gotten that bad.

 _Amy_ \- _her_ Amy (whether Amy agreed to it or not) - had gotten that bad.

Lauren understood, sort of (not really) (she tried) (but, no) how hard it was on Amy. She got that Amy wanted Karma back - as a _friend_ \- and that Amy was heartbroken that the very thing she'd done to save their friendship seemed to have killed it. Lauren got that.

She also 'got' to see the pain in Amy's eyes every day, she 'got' to see the way her shoulders would slump every time she stalled in the hopes that Karma would come talk to her (and Karma never did), she 'got' to see the way Amy tried to hide her loneliness, even when _they_ were together.

Yeah, Lauren got it. She got it all too fucking well. And as bad as it all was for Amy - and it was _worse_ by the fucking day - Lauren had started to think it might be even worse for her. She had to watch it every day and she had to stand by and do nothing about it (Amy had made her swear) ( _swear_ ) (under penalty of no more… _anything_ ) and it was, she'd realized, slowly killing her.

And if… 'mine'... had been bad and been more than she'd expected to say (or fucking _feel_ ) well then this?

This was just too much. Too. Fucking. Much.

She crossed the hall before she had time to think about it and second guess it and reconsider it because, truthfully, she'd been doing _that_ since the very beginning. Since the day Amy came back, since the moment she'd hugged the taller blonde to welcome her home, since the split second she'd felt Amy's hands on her back and her arm slung around her shoulders as Farrah gushed about her girls being together again and - truth be told - Lauren had had about all of that she could take too.

(the second guessing and the overthinking and the arguing with herself of it all) (not the hugging) (or the touching) ( _obviously_ )

She reached out with one hand and slammed Amy's locker shut, the other hand somehow finding Amy's and their fingers were no sooner laced together (in public) (where anyone could see) (and that was _new_ ) (and Lauren _liked_ it) (a lot) then she dragged Amy - who wasn't resisting _at all_ \- towards the front doors and then out into the parking lot and then all the way to the row in the back where she'd had to park this morning because Amy was slow getting out of bed (again) (she hadn't slept much) (totally not Lauren's fault) and it wasn't until the reached the car that she actually spoke.

Or tried to.

Amy's lips on hers did a lot to shut her up. Not that she was complaining. Not even a little.

Lauren's eyes stayed close for a breath or two after Amy broke the kiss, her hands still resting lightly on Lauren's hips, the smaller girl's arms still around Amy's neck.

"I had a speech," Lauren said, her eyes still closed but she could feel Amy's on hers. "This whole big thing about how much it hurts me to see you like this and how stupid and blind and stupid and ridiculous and _stupid_ she is."

Amy's grip on Lauren's hips tightened just a little. "Sounds like a good speech," she said.

Lauren nodded. "It was. My best one since I saved this stupid school." She opened her eyes and looked up at Amy and prayed she didn't look as vulnerable as she felt. "I saved Hester but I can't save _you_ and it's killing me and that's not fair because _this_ wasn't supposed to be _that_ and now it _is_ , for me, and you're still down her fucking rabbit ho -"

"Amy?"

Well… _shit_.

Lauren squeezed her eyes shut and wished there was a hole _she_ could fall into right then and there, some petite blonde sized sinkhole to suck her down and save her from this… whatever it was… and from this whatever being interrupted by _her_.

Amy loosened her grip - but didn't let go - and turned slightly. "Hey, Karma," she said, like this was just another hallway bumping, another passing on the street with nothing but a smile, another 'please say something to me, _please_ ' moment by the lockers.

Lauren watched as Karma's eyes flicked rapidly back and forth between them and as Liam and Shane (who just _had_ to be with her) did much the same. She tried (though not very hard) to squirm out of Amy's grasp, but the other girl held tight.

"She… Lauren… you…"

Karma, it seemed, was at a loss for words and if Lauren had known this was all it took to shut her up, she'd have kissed Amy _long_ ago.

The redhead stared at them for a moment longer and then turned her eyes fully to Amy. "She's your _sister_."

"Step," Amy said, almost automatically. "And, really, not even that, not anymore."

 _Not even that_

It was both heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once.

"She lives in your house," Karma snapped and for the first time, it was clear that this bothered her and Lauren could barely contain the small victory 'woot' she felt bubbling up. "She lives with you and your mother takes care of her and your parents were married and she's… _Lauren_ … what the hell else would you call her?"

Amy let go of Lauren's hips and took her hand, walking them back toward the school - which was totally the wrong way - but then, as she passed Karma, Amy spoke and Lauren didn't care which way they were going.

"I'd call her mine," Amy said.

And _that_ was no accident.


	2. Strawberry

They _still_ didn't talk about it.

Even after Karma (and Liam) (and Shane) (but let's face it, only _one_ of those really mattered) and the parking lot and 'I'd call her mine', Amy and Lauren still didn't talk about it.

They were the only ones who didn't.

It started with the stares and then it moved to the whispers and then it was _everywhere_ and Lauren heard it _all_ even if it seemed like Amy didn't. She was too busy, Lauren figured, steering them back through the doors and into the crowded hallways (and why the fuck was _no one_ in class?) (oh) (because _Hester_ ) and Lauren wasn't entirely sure where Amy was going and she was even less sure that _Amy_ was sure where Amy was going, but that didn't matter.

Wherever it was?

Amy was still holding her hand.

And yeah, Lauren was a little freaked out and even if they had been talking she wasn't sure she could have. She didn't have a word - fuck all, she didn't know if she had a _voice_ \- but that was OK, really, that was just fine. That was just _perfect_.

She didn't really need to talk. After all, Amy had said enough for both of them.

 _I'd call her mine_.

Lauren _did_ wonder - however briefly, before the stares and the whispers and the ' _them?'s_ and the ' _really?'s_ and the ' _holy shit's_ distracted her - if that mic had gotten bruised when Amy dropped it.

Maybe. Maybe not. But Lauren was pretty sure _Karma_ had and while a part of her (a surprisingly big part) (ok, maybe not _that_ surprisingly) wanted to do a little victory dance and celebrate Amy _finally_ standing up for herself, there was a part - a much _bigger_ part - that was...well… scared.

(And if Lauren didn't do compliments and Lauren didn't do jealousy and Lauren didn't do whatever the fuck that was in the parking lot before the Three Stooges had interrupted?)

(She did scared even less.)

So Lauren didn't mind not talking and she didn't mind getting dragged (or tugged or towed or whatever the hell Amy was doing) through the halls while everyone whispered and stared cause she was sure - so fucking sure - that if they stopped and they talked and Amy had even a second to think, it would all be ruined. Amy would see what she'd done, replaying it all in her head and that, Lauren was _sure_ , would be the end of that.

Of _them_.

Amy would see it all so clearly. She'd see the look on Karma's face (the one Lauren would _never_ forget) and she'd hear the way Karma said it - _she's your_ sister - and Amy would realize just how badly she'd fucked it all up.

"It's all wrong and she's never going to forgive me and I can't live without her in my life and she's my best friend, no, she's my _soulmate_ and I just threw all that away and oh, fuck what am I going to do and why am I still here holding your hand, I have to find her, I have to explain before… before… before she turns to _him_ again and oh… _fuck_."

It was all so clear to Lauren and she knew it was coming and she didn't know how to stop it except maybe if she let go of Amy's hand, then may -

"Stop thinking."

Lauren blinked her eyes and looked around. She - _they_ \- were in an empty hall at the far end of the building and she was pressed up against the wall and Amy was leaning over her, one hand still holding hers and the other cupping her cheek.

"What?"

"Stop," Amy said again. "Stop thinking and stop worrying and stop freaking out."

Lauren started to protest, to argue that she was quite fine, thank you very much and there wasn't a single freak that was out, but then that hand on her cheek tipped her head back and Amy's lips found hers and yeah, she _had_ been thinking (far far too much) but that wasn't a problem _now_.

She snaked her arms around Amy's neck and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss and Lauren stopped thinking about Karma or soulmates or where the hell they were (she was pretty sure Amy'd walked them until she could walk them no more) or any of the whispers or stares.

And then she heard (and felt) Amy moan softly into her mouth and Lauren stopped thinking at all.

* * *

The cafeteria was crowded and the tables were almost full and when they walked in - still hand in hand - and every eye (including the six at the table in the back, at least two of them burning with an anger Lauren had never seen before) turned to look at them at once, it was only Amy's death grip on her fingers that kept Lauren from running for the fucking hills.

"You run, I chase," Amy leaned over and whispered and Lauren tried (not very successfully) to repress a shudder at the feel of the taller girl's breath on her neck.

(and if she saw someone _else_ shudder at pretty much that exact moment? Well, she'd probably count that as something of a win) (later) (when there weren't a hundred eyes on her and yes, she'd always wanted fans but _come the fuck on_ )

Lauren let Amy lead her over to the food, even if she was pretty sure she couldn't actually eat anything because she _knew_ Amy wouldn't have _that_ problem. She watched as the taller girl pulled a tray down and started dropping two of everything on it.

Two yogurts (one strawberry and one peach). Two mixed fruit bowls (Amy put the first one back cause too much watermelon and she knew Lauren's policy on the dreaded red death). Two doughnuts (and then one more cause Lauren) and then two bottles of water and two napkins and then there was a table and two chairs - not one in the back, by the beast with six eyes, or off to the side or hidden in a dark corner, but front and fucking center where they couldn't _not_ be seen - and she settled into the chair next to Amy, the tray between them.

And their hands, still entwined, resting comfortably on Amy's thigh.

Amy slid half of everything (except the doughnuts) on the tray over in front of Lauren and plucked a spoon from the tray, dipping it experimentally into the peach yogurt, warily eyeing it as she took a small bite.

"Hmmm," she mumbled around the spoon. "Yougurt's actually _good_ today. Nice fruit to 'gurt balance."

Lauren watched her (and this time she didn't feel like she had to _hide_ it) and couldn't help smiling at the way Amy's eyes closed and the tension drained from her shoulders and dear _God_ , the girl _really_ likes to eat.

And Lauren really liked to watch.

Nothing weird about that. Nope.

"How's the strawberry?" Amy asked and no, Lauren didn't notice the slight uplift, the tiny note of hope (like maybe there'd be a bite for _her_ ) in Amy's voice. Not at all.

"Well," Lauren said. "I could tell you. But you'd have to let go of my hand."

Amy glanced over and Lauren nodded down at their conjoined hands. She watched as Amy's eyes darted between her lap and out at the cafeteria full o'eyes and then back to their hands and then out again before finally settling on Lauren's face.

"You run," she said, as seriously as Lauren had ever heard her say anything. "I chase."

Lauren had the urge - more like a craving or a need or a fucking _want_ , really - to pull Amy up by her shirt collar and push her back on the table and do things to her that would get the cafeteria all manner of Board of Health violations.

(and probably _kill_ Karma) (and Booker) (and every other guy in the room)

"I won't run," she said. "But you wouldn't chase anyway. Chasing means running and running means exercise and _you_ don't _do_ exercise."

Amy tapped her spoon against the yogurt cup. "Well," she said, "in case you haven't noticed all the cardio and extreme yoga that I've been doing in your bed every night…" She squeezed Lauren's hand once before slowly letting it go. "For _you_?" she said. "I'll exercise."

"Wha… how… why… _ugh_."

They both looked up, just in time to catch the tail end of what was either Karma being ridiculously grossed out or having a stroke or some combination of the two. She stared daggers at Lauren and looked at Amy with… well… _something_ in her eyes that Lauren couldn't quite identify but _whatever_ it was, it was almost enough to make Lauren feel bad for her.

Almost.

Karma shook her head and dropped her tray on the table and bolted out of the cafeteria, every eye on her as she ran.

She ran.

Lauren watched her flee and then she turned to Amy, watching in mild disbelief as the other girl broke a piece off one of the doughnuts and dunked it in the yogurt.

Karma ran. Amy _didn't_ chase.

Lauren stared out into the cafeteria and wondered if she looked as confused as those other ninety-eight eyes did.

"How's the strawberry?" Amy asked again (and yes, there was still that hope.)

"You're right," Lauren said, dipping her spoon and taking a small bite, ignoring the stares and whispers and oh, _fuck 'em_. "Yogurt's good today."


	3. Another Log on the Fire

It would, Amy said, take about a week.

"That's… um… her… uh… _Karma's_ … you know…"

Her eyes fluttered shut and her _words_ fluttered through the air, like tiny birds lost on the winds and her _brain_ … well… it fumbled too, searching for the words, all of them (especially that _one_ ) (that _name_ ) (you know) ( _her_ ) just out of reach and her _hands_ fumbled for the sheets, though it was less fumbling and more fisting, more grabbing whole handfuls of fabric (super-high thread count fabric, cause Lauren's bed and nothing but the _best_ there) and holding on tight.

Holding on for dear fucking _life_.

"That's her… her… that _thing_ … like… with viruses… and chicks… the feathery kind, not the girl… _fuck…_ "

Lauren popped her head up and rested her chin on Amy's thigh, a bemused little smile on her face (along with just a bit of Amy) (not _enough_ ) (not _yet_ ) (it was _early_ still.) "Incubation," she whispered, and the smile grew just a little as the warm rush of her breath on Amy's thigh caused the other girl to shudder against her.

"Right," Amy said ( _moaned,_ really) (very loudly) (because Lauren's head wasn't _resting_ any more.) "Incubation… it's like… a week… she lets it… um… you know.. Oooh…"

"Fester?"

(Amy had to think, just a little) ( _translate_ ) (cause she heard it) (but it was muffled) (a little)

She nodded. Vigorously. "Yeah. Fester. That's exactly… right… right… fuck… right _there..._ "

Lauren's head popped back up and Amy tilted hers so she could look down. "If you can't keep up your end of the conversation," Lauren said, "I'll just have to sto -"

Amy's brain and mouth (and pretty much everything else) might not have been fully… _operational_ … right then, but her _hands_ were and Lauren laughed (at least that's what it _sounded_ like) (but you know… _muffled_ ) as those hands found the back of her head and tangled in her hair and then they both stopped talking for a little while.

Not that either of them minded.

* * *

It would, Amy said ( _again_ ) (an hour or so later), take about a week.

"She has to let it fester," she said. Lauren's head was resting against her bare chest and Amy's free hand (the one not entwined with Lauren's and resting on her stomach) was slowly tracing aimless paths along the other girl's naked back.

Amy wasn't exactly sure when they'd reached this point - this laying around naked and not rushing to throw their clothes back on when they were… done… point - but she wasn't complaining, not even a little.

"Karma always says it's her 'thinking time'," she said, noting in her head the way Lauren _didn't_ flinch at the sound of Karma's name (and _that_ was new too) (and Amy didn't mind _it_ either.) "But really, all she's doing is letting it boil and burn inside. She can't just _talk_ about it. She's gotta wait till she can't hold it anymore and then she blows like a fucking bomb."

Lauren nodded, her hair tickling lightly against Amy's breast as she snuggled closer. She really didn't _want_ to talk about Karma, but she was the one who'd _asked_ , who'd thought it was good form for the… girlfriend wasn't the right word (cause right would have meant one of them had said it and it had only been two days since Amy'd said 'mine' and _that_ was more than enough saying) (for now)... so 'mine' or 'significant other' (cause _mine_ seemed pretty fucking significant) or 'fuck buddy' (ugh) ( _no_ ) or _whatever…_ it was her job to ask. To inquire.

Even if she couldn't have cared less.

(even if _that_ was an absolute fucking _lie_ ) (cause she cared) ( _way_ too fucking much)

"I'm sure it'll be OK," Lauren said, her fingers tightening around Amy's. "She'll blow up and you'll talk her down like always and everything will be fine." She _said_ it and she _meant_ it and that wasn't the first time in her life that Lauren realized _meaning_ and _believing_ weren't even close to the same thing. "I mean, she was OK with you and Reagan and you two were… and we're _not_ … I mean…"

She squeezed her eyes shut and _that_ wasn't the first time in her life Lauren wished she'd never even opened her mouth and she thought - very seriously - about slipping back down the bed and diving between Amy's legs (again) and distracting the _fuck_ out of her until she'd forgotten every word.

Except then Amy rolled free of their embrace, her hands coming down on either side of Lauren's body as she straddled her and there was that smile, the one Lauren had spent the last month or so learning to recognize (and not _just_ from the way it made her heart race) (or the way it made her back arch off the bed in anticipation) (or the way it made her… well…) ( _wet_ ) (the word her suddenly non functioning brain was searching for was _wet_ ) and then _Amy_ was moving down down down and her hands were sliding under Lauren's ass and gently lifting her off the bed and then

Words? What words?

* * *

It would, Amy _thought_ , take about a week.

She was three days off.

"What are you doing?" Karma asked. "With… _her_?"

Amy leaned back against the wall between the chem lab and the janitor's closet and let her bag drop between her feet. It had been ten days, which was some kind of record, and she'd started to think maybe Karma wasn't going to bring it up at all, that maybe it was going to be one more log on the 'not speaking to you cause you left and that hurt and I don't give a fuck if it was my fault for kissing you or if you did it to save _us_ ' fire.

That would be the 'you're kissing someone and, no, I don't care that it isn't _me_ , I just care that it's _her_ ' log. And, if Amy was being honest with herself (something she was finding increasingly easy to do, lately, like somehow breaking free of the Karmy gravitational pull had cleared some of the self-delusional fog from her brain) _that_ was a log she wasn't all that sure she wanted to deal with.

Not when there were other logs that were more pressing concerns. Ones that started with 'you and Reagan' and 'you two _were_ ' and ended with 'and we're _not_."

Amy was acutely aware of what she had and Reagan had been and what she and Lauren had thus far not even come to close to even starting to talk about being.

She and Reagan had been together. So were she and Lauren. She and Reagan had been exclusive. So were she and Lauren (as far as Amy knew) (and hoped) (and _wanted_.) She and Reagan had been in…

Yeah.

 _That_.

Maybe they'd never _said_ it (though Reagan had whispered it when she thought Amy was asleep and couldn't hear) (and Amy had _thought_ it) (or, at least, thought _about_ it) ( a lot.) But they'd _felt_ it or - at the very least - felt it coming and if they'd had more time (and fewer boys and less college and more of this newly evolved Amy) maybe they would've _felt_ just as much and _said_ more.

And saying seemed to be the problem. _Again_.

It had been eight days and they (her and Lauren) hadn't talked about _that_ (even if Amy hadn't stopped _thinking_ about it for more than like an hour - sometimes two - since) and she was starting to worry a little about how much they _weren't_ talking about it and -

"Amy!"

Her eyes snapped up from the floor and she looked at Karma and from the look on _her_ face, Amy realized she might have more pressing worries right then and right there.

"You were thinking about… _her_ … weren't you?"

Amy noted, for the record, that Karma had twice mentioned Lauren and twice refused to say her name and that, she knew, couldn't be a good sign. "Maybe," she said with a shrug. "Or maybe I was pondering peace in the Middle East. Or the ISIS crisis." She held back (barely) a snort at her own unintentional rhyme. "Or maybe I was going over the whole debate about the UConn women's basketball team cause, you know, _really_? I don't think they're bad for the game, I think that's just sour grapes from -"

"Amy!"

Apparently, Karma had no trouble with saying _her_ name.

Amy sighed and shoved her hands into her pockets. Her fingers wrapped around the keys in one of them, the ones to Lauren's car that she'd actually ( _finally_ ) gotten the chance to drive that morning and she had a sudden urge to run for the parking lot and throw that key in the ignition and burn some rubber (as much rubber as one could burn in a 2012 Geo Metro) on out of there.

It was tempting. It _so_ was. But she'd waited so long for even a _word_ from Karma… she couldn't bail now.

"What am I doing with… _her_?" Amy repeated. "Well, right now? I'm _waiting_ for her." And yeah, Amy chose those words _on purpose_ (cause she _knew_ the difference between _waiting_ and _leaving_ and, from the look on her face, so did _Karma_.) "She had a test last period and she's always late after those. It's like she thinks if she waits an extra five minutes the Great God of Trig is going to come down and hand her the answers as a reward for her sheer determination and -"

" _Amy_!"

She scuffed one new sneaker (Lauren had picked them out) against the floor, nudging her bag back and forth between her feet. "You know, Karma, if you keep yelling my name out like that, people are going to start talking…"

Karma glared and silence settled between them and it wasn't the first time there'd ever been an uncomfortable one of those between them, but it was definitely the _loudest_. The redhead's hands were on her hips and her head was cocked to one side and, if she looked close enough, Amy was pretty sure she could see the steam bubbling out of her best friend's (assuming Karma still was _that_ ) ears.

"What. Are. You. Doing. With. _Her_?"

It wasn't the presumption of the question, the way Karma asked it like she had an absolute _right_ to know (cause best friends and always told each other everything) that bugged Amy. It wasn't the edge in Karma's voice, like whatever the answer was it would bug the hell out of her (cause in love or not - and a part of Amy was starting to wonder about the 'or not' _a lot_ \- Karma _never_ liked Amy making new friends) that bothered her. It wasn't even the not speaking for all those fucking weeks and it takes seeing one kiss in a parking lot to break the silence and then _this_ is what comes next that pissed Amy off.

It was, simply, that she didn't know how to answer.

And that was the biggest fucking log of them all _and_ that was the sort of thing Amy would've dearly loved to talk to her best friend about _and_ _that_ was quite clearly not going to happen.

"If you're asking about my _relationship_ with _Lauren_ ," Amy said. "I think you got a pretty good idea about that already."

'No comment' might have been easier.

"I think _everyone_ 's got a pretty good idea about it," Karma snapped "You two haven't exactly been discreet with the hand holding and the kissing goodbye and the kissing _hello_ and the… ugh… _all_ of it."

Amy didn't respond (like she knew what to say to all _that_ ) but mostly because she spotted Lauren at the end of the hall, talking to Shane (and yeah, she had a pretty good idea what _that_ was about) and Karma followed her gaze.

"Unfuckingbeliveable," she muttered under her breath.

"Yeah," Amy said as she pushed off the wall and scooped up her bag. "You are."

Karma wheeled on her and if there had been steam before, it was a fucking four alarm smokeshow now. " _Me_?"

"Yes," Amy said, slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder. " _You_. You who refuses to say more than five words to me since I've been back. You who says little or nothing besides 'it's all good' and 'it's chill' and whatever other delusional shit you've been rambling about that I haven't heard since you haven't said _anything_ to _me_ except judgments and 'ughs' and 'ewwws' and questions about things that are none of your fucking business."

She started walking and Karma started following and - under _any_ other circumstances - Amy might have chalked that up as a win.

"None of _my_ business?" Karma said ( _yelled_ ) (definitely _yelled_ cause Lauren and Shane both turned and looked and Amy was still too far away to read Lauren's face and that didn't make her feel any better.) "I'm your _best friend_."

"Yeah," Amy said, as she kept right on walking. "And maybe when you start acting like it again we can talk. Till then?"

She waved over her shoulder and made her way down the hall and hoped whatever shit Shane was spewing it wasn't adding any more logs to the fire.

Amy wasn't sure she could take it.

* * *

Amy had said it would take about a week for Karma and yeah, she was a few days off but if she'd been talking about _Shane_ , she'd have been right on money.

It ( _he_ ) started on the seventh day exactly, cornering Lauren on her way out of American Lit.

"You're not gonna get away with it," he said, nodding at her as if she had the first fucking _clue_ what he was talking about (OK) (she might have had _a_ clue) (it was Shane and he wasn't exactly _complex_ ) and he followed her down the hall toward her locker.

"If you say so," Lauren said and then made a sharp right into the girl's restroom and when she finally came out (seven minutes after the bell) (the _gong_ ) Shane was gone.

He came back the next day (number eight) and Lauren couldn't really say she was surprised.

"I'm not gonna let you hurt her," he said as he fell in step behind her as she left the gym. It had been pilates day and Lauren had enjoyed the good stretch (and had plans for enjoying it more _later_ ) (with _Amy_ ) (in _bed_ )

(you probably got that, though, didn't you?)

and she wasn't in the mood for Shane's shit _and_ his rambling _and_ his threats _and_ his vague taunts - so, really, she wasn't in the mood for _him_ \- so she flipped him off and made a quick left into the girl's restroom and when she came out ( _five_ minutes post gong this time) he was gone.

She sighed and leaned against the row of lockers and wondered what she was going to do when, eventually, she ran out of bathrooms to hide in.

 _That_ came on day ten, the same day Karma talked to Amy and the same day Lauren let Amy drive and spent the entire rest of the day trying to calm down and rid herself of the feeling of sheer terror (Amy's driving) and the mind-boggling level of turned on ( _watching_ Amy drive) the trip to school had caused.

Shane had skipped day nine (Lauren suspected it had something to do with that Noah guy being at school for some reason) but he came back on day ten with a vengeance.

And a _plan_.

He waited for her outside her trig class, even sticking around past the bell and Lauren saw him through the window in the door and took even longer than her usual five extra minutes until Mr. Henshaw walked over and snatched her paper off her desk and told her she didn't have to go home but she couldn't stay there.

The hall, the one connecting trig to the main lobby and to Amy and her ride and Amy and two full hours of Farrah not being home and _Amy_ wasn't long but it was long _enough_.

And there wasn't a single restroom to be found.

He was on her the moment she stepped through the door. "I know what you're up to," Shane said. "With Amy. I know what you're doing."

Lauren _thought_ 'that makes one of us' but said… well… she said _nothing_ and just kept walking and hoped ( _prayed_ ) if she ignored him long enough he'd just go away.

"You think I can't see through your little plan," Shane said, matching her stride for stride down the hall. "But we're cut from the same cloth, you and I, even if mine is slightly more stylish and definitely, massively, exponentially more _gay_."

 _Oh for fuck's sake…_

Lauren spotted Amy at the end of the hall and _that_ was good. And then she spotted who Amy was talking to.

And that was… well…

Fucking _expected_.

She stopped dead in middle of the hall and Shane almost ran right up the back of her (he'd paused, for a moment, as they passed the music studio and Noah - had he fucking _transferred_? - and then run to catch up.)

"You think I can't spot a fake, Lauren?" he whispered in her ear. "You think I don't know a fake lesbian when I see one?"

Lauren's eyes stayed locked on… _her_ … as she nodded her head slightly down the hall and Shane followed her gaze.

"OK, so maybe once," he said and Lauren kept looking and he sighed. "OK, _twice_ , but in my defense, Amy turned out to not be a _total_ fake, so that's really only like once and a half."

Lauren turned her head and looked at him and if looks could talk… all of her looks for _him_ would say the same thing.

"That doesn't matter anyway," Shane said,ignoring the STFU look. "Because we both know you're not gay _or_ bi _or_ anything _but_ desperate." She turned to face him full and he smirked at the obvious reactions rolling over her face. "You're so desperate and lonely and in need of _anyone_ that you'll do anything to hang onto Amy."

"You think so?" She tried to put her usual bite into it, to soak it in her usual amount of venom and not show even the slightest hint of… _anything_ … but even to her, it came out stuttered and stammered and _worried_.

Shane nodded. "Without Karma around, you were Amy's world. All her focus and all her attention and everything she'd usually give her _best friend_ , she gave to you. But you know, don't you?"

There were a lot of things Lauren knew and not a one of _them_ was bothering her.

It was all the things she _didn't_ know.

 _you and Reagan and you two were and and we're not_

Amy hadn't argued and Amy hadn't fought it and Amy had simply gone down on her and made her cum until she couldn't see or think straight or do much more than kiss the other girl and taste herself on Amy's lips and then pass out on in her arms content and safe and…

And content and safe had lasted till she woke up and not a minute longer.

"You know Amy and Karma are going to make up," Shane said. "It's written in the stars."

The stars, Lauren thought, were a bunch of fuckers.

"And when they do," Shane continued, "all you'll have left to give Amy, the only hold you'll have left is the one between your legs and you know, Lauren, you _know_ , sooner or later?"

Sooner or later, Karma would figure out what they all already knew about her ridiculous heart and it's not so ridiculous feelings. And even the power of… yeah… Reagan hadn't been able to hold onto Amy and they'd been… well… they'd been something that Lauren and Amy (apparently) weren't and so, yeah, Lauren _knew._

She glared at Shane, but there was no fire behind it, no fight, no _her_. And she watched him as he watched her and she saw _him_ see it and saw the way his expression changed as he figured out what she'd known, maybe since that first kiss (the one she said was an accident but was slowly starting to think of as more of a _mistake_ ), and she saw a look on Shane's face she'd didn't know he was capable of.

Pity.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, _fuck_. You really -"

"You ready?" Amy asked as she walked up to them, slipping her hand easily into Lauren's.

Lauren's eyes never left Shane's as she nodded. "Yeah," she _said._

 _Not even a little_ , she _thought. Not even a little._


	4. Alright Alright

Lauren slept alone that night.

She told Farrah and Amy she had a headache when she didn't come down for dinner. A migraine, she mentioned. "It's _real_ ," she said when Amy still tried to slip into bed. "Not like a 'not tonight, I have a headache' headache." Amy suggested just cuddles, she offered to just hold her so maybe the pain wouldn't seem so bad, but Lauren still said no.

Maybe it would have helped. Maybe falling asleep in Amy's arms, with Amy's breath on the back of her neck (slow) (soft) (steady) (so, basically, _Amy_ ) would have eased the pain, made it not so bad. Or, it might have made it _worse_.

(The pain _was_ real.)

(It just wasn't in her _head_.)

"I'll be fine," she whispered to Amy, slowly urging the other girl out of the bed. "I'll be alright in the morning."

Amy didn't buy it (she still remembered _stomachache_ ) but she didn't want to push, so she slept in her own bed, in her own room, and did her level best to pretend it didn't bother her (it did) (more than she would have thought) and that she wasn't worried (she was) (more than she _liked_.)

But then, in the morning, Lauren was _alright_. They ate breakfast together, as they always did, sitting in their seats across the table from each other, not like lunch when they say next to each other, sometimes so close it was like they shared a chair.

"We can't do _that_ at home," Lauren told Amy. "It might arouse suspicion." Truth was, Lauren was more concerned it might arouse _Amy_ , who wasn't much of a morning person except - apparently - when it came to sex (or maybe just sex with _Lauren_ ) (and Lauren was, rapidly, turning into Amy's exception for _a lot_ of things) and so they mutually agreed to maintaining a safe distance until they were out of the house.

Not that Amy thought it was necessary.

"She knows," she said one day on the way to school, her hand already in its usual position on Lauren's knee. "My mom. She _has_ to."

"How do you figure _that_?" Lauren asked, her voice hitching slightly at the feel of Amy's hand on her bare skin (and the fact that her touch could still do _that_ , after more than a month… Lauren didn't know how to feel about that) (well, that wasn't _entirely_ true) (she felt _good_ ) (especially when that hand started creeping higher…)

"Well," Amy said. "You're not exactly _quiet_ …"

But whether Farrah knew or not (she _didn't_ ) (not for _sure_ ) (and she was happier that way), that morning the girls stuck to their 'safe' positions at breakfast. And they rode to school together and Lauren didn't push Amy's hand off her knee on the way there, but she didn't reach down and steer it any higher.

And Amy didn't either, which left both of them feeling a little… _off_.

Still, everything seemed to be (mostly) alright. They held hands on their way into school and kissed goodbye before disappearing to opposite ends of the building for first period. It was all normal and all routine and all… alright.

And they both figured if they kept telling themselves that, eventually it might actually be true.

* * *

Lauren slept alone the next night (which meant Amy did too) and the night after that and the one after that.

Another migraine. A sore back (pulled muscle from dance class). Stomachache (and maybe _that_ hadn't worked way back when, after that first 'accidental' kiss, but by the fourth night in a row, even Amy could take a hint) (she wasn't Karma.) It was all bullshit, or so Amy thought, but Lauren sold them all well enough that she couldn't be _sure_ and so she kept quiet.

And then, like clockwork, every morning everything was alright again. Lauren was feeling better and they sat at the table and they rode to school and Amy's hand found its spot and Lauren didn't protest or stop her when it drifted (just a bit) (not as much) and they held hands and they kissed and from eight to three every day, things were…

Alright.

Amy was quickly learning to hate that fucking word.

By then it was the weekend and Lauren was off to Dallas for her twice a month trip to see her father and Farrah and Amy waved goodbye from the door. Amy pretended not to be a little (or a lot) (definitely _a lot_ ) sadder than usual to see Lauren go and Farrah pretended she didn't notice the long and wistful looks her daughter kept casting at Lauren's bedroom door.

That Friday and that Saturday, Amy slept alone and she knew she would have even if there wasn't anything wrong with them, _but_ something _was_ wrong, something was just the tiniest bit off and she could tell. Maybe no one else could. Maybe to the rest of the world, the ones that saw them during the day, everything was just fine. They were holding hands. They were laughing and they were kissing 'hello' and 'goodbye' and 'oh, it's 12:17' and 'look at that cloud, it looks like a pear' and 'oh, look at _that_ one, it looks like a _cloud_ '.

(What could Amy say? She liked kissing Lauren. She liked it _a lot_.)

But then the nights would come and then the ailment of the day and then Amy ended up in her room alone, tossing and turning and worrying all night until Lauren snuck out of their bathroom in the morning and woke her with a kiss and a few hours of 'alright' would start again.

Amy clung to those few hours every day. She savored every minute of them, even though she knew _that_ was just another symptom of whatever _real_ disease was slowly infecting them. Once, she even caught herself trying to figure ways to get detention for the both of them, anything that could extend that school day spell over them for just a little bit longer. She clung to those moments, to those hours and spent every _other_ one telling herself that she was imagining it, that it was all in her head.

But those two nights, the ones that didn't end with a secret kiss to wake her by… well… they made it really hard for her to believe a word she was saying.

* * *

If it all _was_ in Amy's head, that wasn't the _only_ place it was.

"There's something wrong," Shane said on Tuesday, the day after he confronted Lauren in the hall.

"You mean with this food?" Liam asked. "Because I'd definitely be with you on that."

Shane shook his head but Liam wasn't looking and Karma… well… Karma had taken to eating lunch with her back to the rest of the cafeteria (to _them_ ) and looking only at her food (so, _not_ at _them_ ) and she hadn't said a word to either Shane or Liam since her… talk… with Amy the day before.

(Not that either of them noticed.) (Asshats.)

"I'm _telling_ you," Shane said _again_ , on Wednesday. "There's something wrong. Something's off."

Karma didn't turn around and didn't look at him and didn't do much but poke at her mashed potatoes with her spork. "Seriously," she muttered. "We can't even have _forks_ anymore?"

"Sporks are more sustainable," Liam said, twirling (unsuccessfully) some pasta (at least that was what it looked like) with a spork of his own. "Killing two birds, one stone and all that."

"Something is _wrong_ ," Shane repeated and Liam followed his gaze across the cafeteria. Amy and Lauren were at their usual table (big enough for four or five) (and they still sat on top of each other) (Liam thought it was _cute_ ) (in the 'I'll think about how cute it is later, when I'm alone' kinda way.)

"You think so?" he asked, watching as Amy snuck little bites of food off Lauren's tray. "They look fine to me."

"Penelope's just gone too far," Karma said, glaring at the spork. "Compost detention and sporks and fucking brown colored recycled toilet paper." She stabbed the spork (as much as one _can_ stab a spork) into the potato mound. "I'm surprised we're not recycling our uri -"

"It's the little things," Shane said, cutting her off mid-whine. "Watch."

Amy, oblivious to the four eyes staring at her (and to the two looking _anywhere_ else) poked her spork into Lauren's salad, spearing a cherry tomato while Lauren looked over her chem notes.

"See?" Shane asked, slapping Liam's arm with one hand. "Right _there_. Did you see it?"

Liam looked at the girls and then back at Shane. "You're _so_ right," he said. "Something is _clearly_ wrong. I just saw Amy eat something... _healthy."_

Karma's head snapped up and she turned in her chair, but she covered quickly by glaring at the spork dispenser. "My kingdom," she said. "My kingdom for a for..."

She trailed off as her eyes slipped from the sporks to her best… to _Amy_. She couldn't help it. Amy (and Lauren) was (were) like a magnet, like a (two) giant blonde eyeball dragging magnet(s) and, try as she might, she couldn't look away.

"Not the healthy," Shane said. "Well, not _just_ the healthy." He frowned as Amy snuck a cucumber slice and Lauren kept reading her notes. "Every time Amy takes something healthy off Lauren's tray, she replaces it. She takes the tomato and leaves a bit of brownie. Some tofu and she gives some Skittles."

"That's cute," Liam laughed (oblivious to the 'I can still kill you with a _spork_ glare Karma was giving him.) "It's like they balance each other."

Shane nodded (and Karma seethed.) "But the last couple days she's not doing it. Or, if she does…"

He nodded at the two blondes and the three of them watched as Amy snagged a bit of lettuce and a carrot and then, in one smooth motion, dropped three Twizzlers on Lauren's tray.

They went untouched.

But then, Shane noticed (and so did Karma) (but not Liam) (cause _Liam_ ) so did the rest of Lauren's food. Except for her bottle of water, Lauren didn't touch a thing on her tray and yeah, the two of them noticed and so did Amy. Karma could see it - the _worry_ \- on Amy's face when the gong sounded and Lauren dumped her only partially eaten (all by Amy) lunch in the trash.

"Something's _wrong_ ," Shane repeated and Liam shrugged and they both stood to go but Karma stayed behind, tapping her spork on the table.

Something _was_ wrong, she agreed. What was even wronger?

She actually cared.

* * *

Lauren was due back that Sunday morning but then she texted and pushed it back till early afternoon and then _late_ afternoon and then _early_ evening and then just in time for bed (and yeah, Amy wondered _which_ bed) and with every text, Amy felt herself getting more and more anxious.

No. Not _anxious_. Anxious implied a little. Anxious suggested just a bit of worry, a touch of concern, a dash of troubling.

Amy was half a step from full on panic and she didn't like it and she liked even less that the only two people she could have talked to about it… well… one was _causing_ it and the other…

The other was on her front step with hand poised to knock (when Amy opened the door to go for a walk) and a look on her face that Amy had never seen before.

(A Karma look she'd never seen?)

(Forget a half step.) (Try a _quarter_.)

They stood there, facing each other in the door and it lasted all of thirty seconds but for both of them it might as well have been thirty _days_.

"Hey," Karma said (her hand still hanging in the air.)

"Hey," Amy said back. "You want me to close the door again so you can finish knocking?"

"What? Oh!" Karma grinned as she dropped her hand back to her side with a laugh and Amy smiled and - for four or five seconds - all was right in the world again. Except Amy was still standing _in_ the door and she didn't seem all that inclined to move _out_ of it and out of the way and Karma couldn't ever remember _that_ happening.

(Cause it _never_ had.)

"I was… um… wondering if we could… you know… _talk_?" Karma asked and there was a flash of something (relief) (gratitude) (she wasn't _sure_ which or why) (but she'd fucking _take_ it) that crossed over Amy's face, but then that same non-expression Amy had been giving her for weeks was back.

"Last time we… talked," Amy said, "it didn't go so well."

Karma nodded. "I know. About that -"

Amy held up a hand to stop her and Karma couldn't remember the last time _that_ happened either and it seemed like just a whole day of _firsts._

"I'm really not in the mood to talk," Amy said. "At least not about _that_." Karma wasn't sure if 'that' was their last talk or the _subject_ of their last talk or the fact that their _last_ talk had really been their _first_ talk since Amy had come home and, she supposed none of _that_ really mattered.

"Neither am I," she said. "And I'm not really in the mood to talk about whatever it is that's going on and going… wrong… with… _that_ , right now." She ignored the way Amy's eyes widened (and silently hoped her words hadn't sounded as harsh to Amy as they had to her) (they _had_.) "And don't tell me nothing's wrong and everything's alright cause I can tell when you're lying."

Amy stared.

"Usually," Karma added.

Amy leaned against the door and crossed her arms.

"Once in a while," Karma said. "Sometimes. Occasionally. On Tuesdays. Or maybe every other Wednesday and really, does it _matter_? I'm trying to be _helpful_ here!"

Amy arched an eyebrow (or _tried_.) "This is what you call helpful?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant and unimpressed about the whole thing, but she couldn't keep the tiniest of smiles from her face.

"No," Karma said. She reached into her bag with her hand (the one that wasn't knocking anymore) and tugged out a DVD, holding it out to Amy. " _This_ is."

Amy took the offered case and glanced down. " _Force Awakens?_ " She looked back up at Karma and this time the smile wasn't so tiny and she wasn't even _trying_ to hide it. "But you _hate_ Star Wars."

"And you hate _Pretty Woman_ ," Karma said. "And _Pretty in Pink_ and _27 Dresses_ , and just about every other movie I've made you watch since we were twelve." Amy didn't try to argue because, really, they both knew Karma was right (had to happen sometime.) "And part of being a best friend is shutting the hell up and enjoying the things you hate… or, at least, living with them, for the sake of the other person."

Amy glanced down at the movie in her hand. She'd seen it a dozen times already but one more wouldn't hurt. And, truthfully, as much fun as it was watching stuff with Lauren (especially things the tiny blonde hated and she _hated_ Star Wars) it wasn't the… it wasn't the _same_ as with Karma.

Not better. Not worse. Just not the _same_.

"Promise to not make fun of it too much?"

Karma smiled and nodded. "Not _too_ much," she said. "Promise to explain anything I don't understand?"

Amy stared at the case in her hand and tried (not to succesfully) to think of the texts cluttering up her inbox. Of all the excuses and the delays and the utter bullshit she didn't buy for a second. "What if I don't understand it either?" she asked.

Karma stepped forward and let her not-knocking hand rest on Amy's atop the DVD case. "Then I'll help you figure it out," she said. "Even if… even if I think it's the stupidest thing ever and have no idea how you could like it and the thought of it makes me kinda queasy and like I ate bad sushi and -"

"Karma," Amy said, softly, and the other girl grew quiet. Amy stepped to the side, silently letting Karma (back) in. The redhead trundled off to the kitchen to make snacks and get drinks as Amy stayed there, in the doorway, her eyes drifting up and down the street.

"You coming?" Karma called. "Popcorn isn't gonna butter itself!"

"Yeah," Amy said. "I'm coming," she said as she took one last look at the empty street and the empty driveway and then she stepped inside. And shut the door.


	5. A Little Help

_**A/N: Sorry this is a little shorter. Simple plans is taking up a lot of my time and this seemed like a good place to end the chapter.**_

Lauren lied.

Well… it wasn't a _lie_ , not really. A lie makes it sound so… lie-ish. It wasn't like _that_ , not really, and even if it was a _lie_ , it was just a _little_ one. A tiny little white lie, the kind that didn't hurt anyone or do any _real_ damage (even if the _lied to_ found out that the _liar_ had done the _lying_.)

It wasn't like she'd even purposefully set out to do it, it just sort of… happened. And yes, she's aware that _that_ is the same rationale (call it what it _is_ : bullshit fucking _excuse_ ) that her daddy had used with wife #2 and wife #3 and _almost_ wife #4 when he got caught letting little Bruce do all big Bruce's thinking, but _this_ is not _that._ She's not cheating on Amy (she'd _never_ ) and that's only partly because she's not even sure what they _are_ so she's not even sure that - technically - she _could_ cheat.

(She wouldn't _anyway_.) (She lo..li.. _cares_ about Amy too much.)

( _That's_ the whole fucking _problem_.)

So, it wasn't a lie, not really. More of a… fib. Yup. _That's_ what it was. A fib. Or… you know… _four_ of them.

(It's _quality_ not _quantity_.)

They were - her _fibs_ \- all text messages, all sent on Sunday.

(The Sunday she was supposed to be back and the Sunday Amy had been waiting for - _anxiously_ \- and the Sunday that Karma showed up and Amy at least didn't have to wait _alone_ and if Lauren had known _that…_ ) (She might have fibbed a little _less_.)

The first one was supposed to be the _only_ one - it didn't quite work out that way - but Lauren started with the best of intentions.

 _#1: Won't be back till early afternoon. More time with daddy. He's lonely._

And see? _That's_ how you can tell it was a _fib_ and not a _lie_ because there was _truth_ in it. Bruce _was_ lonely. His last three dates had been one and done and Lauren had cancelled his last two trips to Austin (too much schoolwork) (out of town trip for some… Intersex… _thing_ )

(the oddest pair of euphemisms for I'm too busy fucking my used to be step-sister to hang out with you _ever_ )

and those had both been _lies_ and Lauren felt guilty - and she doesn't do _that_ well - and so staying a little bit longer for some more daddy and show pony time would have made _perfect_ sense.

Perfect if, you know, Bruce hadn't left that Sunday morning at like eight-thirty (nine am tee time) and hadn't kissed Lauren goodbye on his way out the door and told her to drive safe and to give his best to Amy.

(She knew he meant Amy _and_ Farrah but didn't want to _say_ that but still, the way he said it -'give my best to _Amy_ ' - made her spend the next half hour wondering what he knew and how he could know it and she damn near gave herself a panic attack.)

That (near) panic attack led to _another_ near freak out when Amy _called_ (Lauren ignored it) and _that_ was what set Lauren on her path for that Sunday, which led directly to…

 _#2: Big traffic jam downtown. Would be mess trying to make it out now. Should be back late afternoon._

That one might have been closer to lie than fib. There was no traffic jam downtown or, really, Lauren had no idea _if_ there was a traffic jam downtown (or even traffic, period) as she went nowhere _near_ downtown to get back to Austin and, in all the years she'd lived in Dallas, she'd never gone anywhere she'd even _call_ downtown.

That was bad enough. It would have been _so_ much worse if she'd sent the text while she was _on the road_ and already an hour _out_ of Dallas, sitting at a rest stop and slowly sipping on the last few bits of an overpriced (but exceptionally healthy) (and _great_ for the skin) (so _totally_ a good thing for her _and_ Amy cause, you know, touching and kissing and licking the skin) smoothie she'd picked up from her favorite health food store on her way out of town.

Yeah… doing _that_ would have ( _was_ ) (fucking _was_ ) been so much worse.

(Shut the fuck up.)

That might (not might) ( _did_ ) make Lauren feel guilty (again) and (as already noted) she doesn't _do_ guilt, at least not well, and that made her reconsider her plan, but then she thought about everything Shane had said and she remembered Amy and Karma talking (and not yelling or calling names or doing anything else that might keep them apart for even a little longer) and the guilt faded and the determination grew and she pulled out of the rest stop and back onto the road.

The guilt _did_ fade but it didn't _go_ and it kept nagging at her and poking at her (and if it sounded suspiciously like Shane - and every once in a while like Liam, which was just fucking _weird_ \- well, that probably explained…)

 _#3 There was a wreck on the highway. Am using GPS to find another way. Call it early evening now_.

 _Miss you._

So, yeah, the wreck was _totally_ her and she _so_ added the 'miss you' to distract from the whole using the GPS bit cause anyone who knew her for more than five minutes would know that was a load of utter bullshit cause Lauren would _obviously_ just call someone and have them direct her over the phone cause she couldn't _yell_ at the GPS if it was wrong.

(She _could_.) (But it would be so much _less_ satisfying.)

But Lauren knew Amy was a sucker for the sweet stuff (see what not getting good parental affection as a child does to you?) and she knew Amy would focus on the 'miss you' and not on the rest. And when the ' _I miss you too_ ' message came in reply two minutes later, Lauren couldn't help smiling.

(But when the ' _a lot_ ' addition came another thirty seconds later, the smile faded a little.)

(Guilt.)

(She doesn't _do_ fucking guilt.)

(And when the offer to get online and try to help her find a better and faster alternate route - _to get you back to me quicker_ \- came two minutes after _that_ , the smile _disappeared_ and the guilt she didn't do settled in and she tried to reply but couldn't think of a good excuse and so she just ignored it and hoped Amy would get the hint.)

(Which only made Lauren worry more that Amy _would_ get the hint but it would be the _wrong_ hint and _fuck all_ she didn't do guilt and she didn't do games and she didn't do giving the other person all the fucking power in the relationship and now she was doing _all_ of it.)

Lauren managed to _endure_ (and it was _hard_ ) the guilt and all for a while, but eventually…

 _#4: Sorry. Lost signal. Thanks for the offer, babe. I'm good. Will be there in time for bed._

She read it twice _before_ she sent it and then three _more_ times after and she still didn't know how the hell she had _typed_ let alone _sent_ 'babe'.

Fucking _babe_.

Lauren sat on the side of the road with her head resting against the steering wheel and wondered when _exactly_ she'd turned into this… _girl_. Not that she wasn't always a girl, not that she wasn't 100%, totally, exclusively, undoubtedly _all_ woman (fuck biology) (fuck it right in the…) but this was… this was _girl_ … this was _teenage_ Karma-like chasing boys and the approval of others and desperately trying to keep the other person (who hadn't acted even a little like she didn't _want_ to be kept but Lauren saw the signs) type shit.

And if Lauren didn't do the other stuff? She did that shit even _less_.

Except…

When the expected reply didn't come? When Amy didn't send back a laughing till she was crying emoji or a smartass comment or a snarky retort about 'babe'? When Amy didn't send back _anything_?

Well… that was… OK. She was probably caught up in some Netflix documentary about people in some country that doesn't even _have_ Netflix and she probably just didn't hear her phone and it wasn't like Lauren expected her to be sitting there with it on her lap, staring at it, waiting for the moment when Lauren would text or call and then cursing every time it rang and it wasn't _her._

Yeah, that was it. Amy was just busy… distracted… tired… she was jus…

Sick of it. Sick of Lauren pushing things ( _her_ ) off. Sick of the excuses and the illnesses and the quite obviously ridiculous reasons for distance and of sleeping alone and of being one thing ( _together)_ during the day and then being something else ( _apart_ ) at night.

 _That_ (all of it) was what Amy was. Lauren was sure of it. She'd been sure of it when she left _for_ Dallas and she'd been surer of it when she _left_ Dallas and that was why she was here, of all fucking places, cause she didn't want Amy to be sick of it, not of any of it (especially not of her) and she didn't exactly have a lot of people she could talk to about it. Amy had Shane (her guru in all things gay) and, eventually, she'd have Karma again (not that she'd be _helpful_ but at least she was _someone_ ) and Lauren had…

Well…

There was…

And maybe...

Yeah.

This was her only chance and she knew it and even if it _wasn't_ , even if it was the dumbest idea of all fucking time (and it probably was), it was about more than just _that_. It was about Amy and it was about whatever the hell they were (or might be) and it was about Lauren _refusing_ to fall (more than she already had) for _another_ person who would value something (someone) (you know fucking who) over her and leave her in that worst of all places. Not unrequited love.

Unrequited _enough_.

She climbed out of her car and hoofed it up the three flights of stairs (and seriously, have they never heard of _elevators?_ ) and down the hall and around the corner to the last door on the right and then she stopped. And stood there. And stood some more and then raised her hand to knock and then put it down and then raised it again and then put it down and then…

 _Fuck_

This was fucking ridiculous. If there was one thing Lauren _really_ didn't do (cause - apparently - she _did_ all the other things she didn't do) it was fucking _timid_.

She raised her hand and banged on the door (and didn't yell out anything about a 'den of sin' this time) and when the door opened and the familiar face stared back at her (with complete and utter confusion cause _Lauren_?) she drew herself up to her full height and spoke with no fear or reservation what-so-fucking-ever.

"Hi, Reagan. I need your help."


	6. Enough

There were certain things Reagan expected in her life.

She was twenty now and not having a 'teen' in her name had been something of a shift for her, like everything changed in that one minute, when the clock struck midnight and in that one moment she went from nineteen to twenty, from child to adult.

(You know, more or less.) ( _Usually_ less.) (But she _tried_.)

She was a grownup now (or _trying_ ) and that came with expectations ( _on_ her) ( _for_ her) ( _by_ her) and responsibilities. It was time to leave childhood behind and move into the world and make her way.

You know… as soon as she managed to get out of her apartment that she shared with three other people (down from five) (so _progress_ ) ( _and_ she was dating one of them) (which _might_ have been a mistake) and found a steady (as in not only on weekends) (or in roving clubs that the cops might shut down on any given night) job.

Reagan was an adult, a full on grownup, a 'save the drama for your mama' kind of girl… _woman_ … now. And that came with certain expectations.

Good music, for example. She was a DJ after all and she had an eye (well, _both_ of them) on turning that into some kind of career, so she wanted and expected (and _needed_ ) good music in her life. Good music and good _food_. Working as a cater-waiter, she'd seen the good (and the bad) (so much _bad_ ) and maybe she was never going to be a foodie and she'd _never_ be able to tell anyone what wine went with _anything_ (mostly cause she hated wine) but she'd learned to appreciate the decent stuff, the maybe not great but _good_ food, the stuff just a rung or two up the ladder from fast food and doughnuts.

(And yes, she remembered all too well that - according to her favorite ex - there _weren't_ any rungs higher than doughnuts.)

(And _yes_ , Amy was her _favorite_ and yes, that was probably cause - reputations and expectations (there _they_ were _again_ ) aside - she only had _two_ exes and Amy was the one who _hadn't_ dumped her for a dude.)

(So, yeah… _favorite_.)

Good tunes and good music and good friends (she had a couple) (she would have liked a couple more) (maybe a certain blonde) (but Heather was kinda annoying and not good at sharing and _God_ some nights she reminded Reagan of Karma) (and _those_ were sexless nights, that was for fucking sure) and a peaceful and drama free existence. Those were the things Reagan expected in her life and in the three and a half weeks she'd been twenty, those were the things she'd had.

 _Had_.

That was the key word.

 _Had_. It went from the things she _has_ to the things she _had_ the moment she opened her door and found Lauren Cooper standing on the other side of it.

(And, really, Lauren only stood _there_ long enough to say 'hi' and 'I need your help' and then she was on the _other_ side of the door, like she owned the place.)

"Come on in," Reagan muttered, by which time Lauren was already hanging her light jacket on the back of a dining room chair and dropping her purse on the table. "Make yourself at home."

Lauren turned and leaned against the table and Reagan watched her. The last time she'd seen the tiny blonde was… well... um…

Fuck all, she didn't remember the last time which might have had something to do with there not being a lot of times, _period_. There was the night at the club, when she'd only caught a glimpse or two of Lauren doing her 'I'm so fucking high' dance. And there was the night of the pageant, but Reagan had been focused on Amy (in that dress) (and _not_ coming out) (and _that_ should have been a sign.) And there was that one family dinner that wasn't (Bruce got called away on business and Farrah had a migraine and _Karma_ was there and yeah, Reagan had blocked _that_ one right the fuck out.)

And then there was…

Well…

There was _right now_.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here," Lauren said.

Reagan looked up and realized that during her trip down 'not a lotta memories' lane, Lauren had settled herself on the couch, with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap, like a perfect little First Lady (or, more likely, _President_ ), all prim and proper and poised.

 _That_ was the Lauren Reagan _did_ remember (well… except for the club) (prim and proper and pacifiered didn't mesh well.) Amy had always insisted that there was more to the girl, that she wasn't _just_ the image she showed to people, but Reagan had always had her doubts.

Which made the next three minutes a bit of a… shock.

"I need your help," Lauren said. "With Amy."

OK, so far. _Weird_ , a bit, but… OK.

"Well," Lauren continued. "Not _with_ Amy. I'm not into _that_ , you know. I don't do the whole… thruple thing."

Right. Thruple. Got it.

Wait.

 _What?_

"It's not that you're not attractive," Lauren said and Reagan just watched, just sat and stared as the most tightly wound girl she'd ever known slowly unspooled on her couch. "You are, you _totally_ are, I can definitely see what Amy saw in you. At least physically."

"Thanks," Reagan said. "I think?"

Lauren just kept on keeping on, as if Reagan hadn't spoken at all. "And if we were ever going to do… _that_ …" She waved her hands in front of her in what Reagan thought (fucking _guessed_ ) was a depiction of a threesome.

(Or some kind of epileptic fit.) (Either way.)

"It would totally be with you," Lauren said and it took the older girl a minute to realize that Lauren had just confirmed that yes, she and Amy were - apparently - fucking _and_ if they ever felt like having a three way, she'd be number one on their call sheet.

Reagan made her way to the kitchen, on a beeline for the fridge. "I'm gonna need a drink," she said. "You want a drink? I'm gonna need a drink."

Lauren didn't reply _but_ she _did_ keep talking (like that did anything but make _more_ need for a drink) (or _six_.) "And it isn't like I need help _with_ her for just her and me, you know. I mean, frankly, if her reactions are anything to go by, I'm doing quite _nicely_ with Amy, so it's not like I need pointers on _that_."

Reagan grabbed a beer from the fridge and closed it.

"Though," Lauren said. "I _guess_ , if you had _any_ … cause you know, lesbian and all… and I'm still kinda new to it all, though we've been doing it _enough_ that I kinda feel like a veteran now, you know?"

Reagan opened the fridge again and grabbed another beer. And then the rest of the six pack. She walked back into the living room and held one out to Lauren who took it, cracked it, and drained half of it in a gulp so big Reagan could only stare in amazement.

She hadn't realized there was that much… room… in someone so… _tiny_.

Lauren was like a fucking TARDIS. Bigger on the inside. In more ways than one, apparently.

"I mean I know I'm _not_ ," she said. "A veteran, I mean. And not a lesbian either, I don't think, not that I've actually been with any guys but I still think, maybe..." She paused for a moment, long enough to take another long swallow of her beer as she though. "Yeah," she said. "I definitely think, under the right circumstances, like if _Amy_ wanted to, I'd still be into dic -"

"Stop!" Reagan nearly dropped her beer (right alongside her fucking _mind_ ) as she held up a hand to shush Lauren (which, under normal circumstances might have meant, you know, _death_ , but these were clearly _not_ normal circumstances.)

(This wasn't even in normal's zip code.)

"You and Amy?" Reagan asked. "You're… _together_? You and Amy. My Amy?"

"She's not _yours_ ," Lauren snapped and it was the most… Lauren… reaction she'd had since she walked through the door. "And if you're starting to get some sort of dumper's remorse thing going here, you can just cut that shit _right now_."

There was a fire behind Lauren's eyes - not unlike the one Reagan had seen moments before she made it rain chicken cutlets at the pageant - and (as frightening as it was) _that_ was a little reassuring, cause pissed off Lauren (and _not_ rambling babbling not thrupling but still into… _that_ … Lauren) was a step in the right direction.

It was a step - a small one - away from the _crazy_.

"I didn't mean it like _that_ ," Reagan said. "No remorse here, OK. I'm perfectly happy with _my_ girlfriend, who is definitely _not_ Amy." Lauren glared. "I just meant… you know… _Amy_. Like Amy that _used_ to date me, hung up on Karma till the end of time Amy." Reagan dropped down onto the ottoman across from Lauren (a _safe_ distance with lots of room to move) (dodge) ( _escape_.) "Your _sister_ Amy."

Lauren shifted on the couch and Reagan watched some of the tension slip away. "Yes," Lauren said. " _That_ Amy. Though, technically, our parents split up so… not so much with the sisters anymore."

Reagan nodded cause, you know, _that_ just made it all so… _normal._

"So you two are _together_ together?" she asked. "Like a couple?"

Reagan tried really hard (like _really_ hard) to keep the skepticism out of her voice, to keep it from sounding like a Lauren and Amy coupling was the _last_ thing in the world she would have ever expected.

Even if it, you know, _was_.

"Yes," Lauren said so softly that Reagan almost didn't hear her and she couldn't tell if the blonde was embarrassed or unsure or… _what_. "We're together. Amy called me… 'hers' and we're out and everyone knows and it's… it _was_ great and I'd like it to stay that way, but there's this… this… _thing_."

"A thing," Reagan repeated and some of it (and only some) (like very little some) (but a very _familiar_ some) started to make sense. "A thing called Karma?"

"Yes," Lauren said, almost before Reagan got the name all the way out. "Well… no. I mean, not… not _exactly_."

(And so much for making sense.)

Lauren sighed and set her beer down on the table and Reagan watched as her entire demeanor just… shifted. The legs uncrossed and the posture slumped and that fire behind the eyes flickered and faded and - for the first time Reagan could ever remember - Lauren _looked_ sixteen. She looked tired and frazzled and about a half a heartbeat from crumpling to the ground in a crying mess or a half a heartbeat away from just…

Disappearing.

That wasn't _exactly_ it, it wasn't like Reagan thought Lauren could ever disappear (no one so _tiny_ was ever so _large_ ) but this Lauren, this girl sitting in front of her… _this,_ Reagan realized was the Lauren that Amy had always insisted was in there somewhere.

And _this_ Lauren looked terrified and hurt and like all of _that_ (all of that _Karma_ ) (all of that Karma _and_ Amy) was just about enough to make _this_ Lauren ready to bail and let the _other_ Lauren run the show, maybe for good.

"It _is_ Karma and it _isn't_ ," Lauren said. Her voice was level and she _seemed_ calm and, for some reason, that made Reagan even more _not_ calm. "It's not like she's suddenly realized she's in love with Amy or something. She's still _Karma_."

Reagan _heard_ that. "Oblivious until you don't want her to be, possessive as hell, unable to comprehend that anything or anyone _not_ her could actually be good for Amy?"

Lauren nodded. _That_ ought to go right on Karma's Facebook profile. "Yeah, she is _not_ my biggest fan right now. And it's not like I _care_ and I was _fine_ with it, I really was, but that was when she wasn't _Amy's_ biggest fan either."

Karma not liking Amy? Reagan might have arched _both_ eyebrows at _that,_ if they hadn't, you know, already been touching her hairline since the moment Lauren started talking about thruples.

"They weren't really speaking for a while," Lauren said in answer to the question Reagan hadn't asked. "Karma didn't take Amy's time away too well. She wasn't a big fan of Amy taking off on the great pussy tour all summer."

Reagan bit back the sip of her beer that threatened to come up. The _great pussy tour_? That wasn't _exactly_ what _she_ would have called it (though, given the stories she'd heard from her friends in the band, it might not have been _totally_ inaccurate.)

"And while they weren't speaking," Reagan said, the puzzle pieces slowly slipping into place, and seeming even more familiar than she'd thought. " _You_ and Amy _were_. You filled the void and now the void is -"

Lauren cut her off and that fire was back in her eyes, but it was hard to see behind the tears welling on the surface.

"Why does _everyone_ say it like _that?"_ she asked (and _no_ , Reagan didn't need to know that _everyone_ was her and _Shane_.) "Why does everyone say it like I'm some kind of… _predator_?"

Reagan hadn't meant it like _that_ , but she had a feeling (call it a hunch) (or intuition) (or fucking _experience_ ) that this wasn't about what _she_ meant.

"It isn't… _wasn't_ like _that_ ," Lauren said. "I wasn't just sitting there, waiting for Karma to fuck up… not that I would have had to wait _long_ … and leave me an opening and then… _BAM!_ " She slapped her hands together _and_ yelled _and_ Reagan nearly toppled off the ottoman. "I make my move and use my feminine fucking wiles and…. _what_?... _capture_ Amy? Like some kind of fucking prisoner of war?"

"I didn't mea -"

Lauren didn't hear or didn't care or maybe _both_. "It _wasn't_ fucking like _that_ ," Lauren said. "I mean, OK, yeah, maybe it was _kinda_ like that. Karma _did_ fuck up and she _was_ gone and I _did_ make the the first move, but it wasn't like I _planned_ it."

"Right," Regan said. "I wasn't sayin -"

"I was an _accident_ ," Lauren said. She stood (jumped) (fucking _leapt_ ) up from the couch, almost knocking over her beer. "I never _meant_ … and even if I _did_ \- which I _didn't_ \- but even if I _did_ , even if maybe I meant to kiss her… it wasn't cause I was trying to steal her or capture her… even if I did _mean_ it… it was just to show her, you know? That not everyone was as oblivious as Karma or as biphobic as you."

Reagan thought she should be offended and throw Lauren right the fuck out.

But, really… there might have been a little (or a lot) ( _too_ fucking _much_ ) truth there.

"And what's _wrong_ with _that_?" Lauren asked (and there was a pleading tone to her voice that made Reagan's heart break.) "What's wrong with wanting her to see… to _know_ … that someone could actually see and appreciate and… fucking _feel_ something for who she _is_?"

What's wrong with that?

Only thing Reagan could think of?

That it was Lauren and not _her_.

"Even if I _wanted_ her to like it, it wasn't because I just… I didn't want to just be her new number one, I didn't want _that_ fucking job." Lauren dropped back down to the couch, the air and the anger and the energy slowly hissing out of her. "Well, maybe I did… but _not_ like _that_ … it wasn't like I planned to use kisses and hand holding and… _fucking_ … to try and replace Karma."

Reagan already knew _that_. "It wasn't _Karma_ you wanted to replace," she said quietly, almost expecting another couch jumping, beer spilling, angry finger pointing type reaction.

She didn't get one.

"No," Lauren said, her eyes dropping to the ground, whether out of embarrassment or pity (and it could have been _either_ ) Reagan wasn't sure. "It wasn't _her_ but maybe it should have been because now… now I'm fucking _stuck_ because she's _back_ and the Karmy locomotive is chug-chug-chugging it's way out of the station and… and _you_ know what happens to anyone on the fucking tracks."

Yeah… Reagan had an _idea_.

"It's simple math," Lauren said. "All the things Amy needed me for, she won't and the things she _wanted_ me for… they're just not…"

"Enough," Reagan said and Lauren's eyes snapped back up. "The kisses and the hand holding and the… other _stuff_ … you don't think any of it is enough to hold her." She watched Lauren carefully and when she saw it - the flicker behind her eyes and the tremble in the hands that couldn't even pick up the beer - she _knew_. "And even if they were enough for Amy… they're not enough for _you_."

Lauren didn't say anything. She didn't _have_ to. The tears streaming down her cheeks - the ones Reagan knew all too well - said it _all_.

"You're in love with her," Reagan said. It wasn't a question and Lauren didn't answer. "And now you're afraid that you're what… what _I_ was. A distraction, a band-aid, a… bad paving job over another Karma sized pothole in Amy's heart."

Lauren shook her head. "That's not what you were," she said. "Amy loved you. You know she did. But in the end…"

"In the end, it wasn't _enough_ ," Reagan said. She took a long drink of her beer, letting those words - _Amy loved you -_ rattle round in her head and wondered how anything could feel _so_ good and hurt so _fucking much_ at the same time.

Lauren stood again. "I shouldn't have come," she said. "We're not the same. You and Amy… you… _were_ … and we're… _she's_ … not… and this was stupid."

"Lauren," Reagan reached out a hand but the tiny blonde was already at the table, tugging on her coat and snatching up her purse.

"It's OK," she said. "I get it. I've gotten it all along." She shoved her arm through a stubborn sleeve, looking so young and lost and… _hurt_ … and yeah, Reagan saw _her_. That other girl, the one Amy had always talked about. "I don't know why I came here, I just… I don't even… I wanted to be _wrong_ , you know? That it wasn't that Amy loved you and that even that wasn't enough to survive… _her_ … but she did and it wasn't and I've known that from the beginning and now it's ending and I…"

Reagan stood and whether she meant to hug her or wipe away her tears or just… she didn't even _know_ … it didn't _matter_. Lauren bolted, tearing out the door before Reagan had a chance to do _anything_.

The older girl… _woman_ … stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where Lauren had just been, her mind going a thousand miles an hour in a thousand _and one_ directions all at once. And those words - _I wanted to be wrong_ \- kept echoing over and over _and over_.

She'd been wrong. She'd been wrong in so many fucking ways she'd lost count. She'd done so many wrong things - like she'd been possessed by the spirits of a thousand stupid fucking _idiots_ who didn't understand the first fucking _thing_ about how she _should have_ felt - and, in the end, she knew, Amy had loved her.

And it wasn't _Karma_ that love wasn't strong enough to survive. It was _her_. Her and her own stupidity and her own certainty about _everything_ and her own fucking _fear_ and… _Goddammit_ … she wasn't letting _that_ happen again.

Reagan tapped out the number on her cell without even looking. "Hey Shrimps, it's me," she said. "Yeah, I know. Been a while. You got a minute? I think there's something… something we should talk about."


	7. Catch

Lauren was tired - more like well _past_ it - and the house was dark.

The house was dark and full of terrors and one of _those_ was parked on the street, a giant fucking purple terror of a thing, with _Good Karma_ on the side and, as she pulled into the drive, Lauren didn't really know how she felt about that.

Yes, she did.

OK, she _really_ did but she also _really_ didn't want to _think_ about it cause, frankly, she'd done enough thinking lately. She felt like she'd been doing nothing _but_ thinking for weeks. That she'd spent all weekend thinking, that she'd thought herself right _out_ of driving home when she was supposed to, that she'd thought herself right _into_ talking to Reagan instead of Amy and _fuck all_ she was _so past tired_ of thinking.

Thinking and feeling and worrying and wondering and thinking _about_ thinking and feeling and worrying and she was just _so_ tired of _all of it_ and Reagan hadn't helped _at all_ and so, no, Karma being there was not something Lauren wanted to know about or think about and definitely not something she wanted to deal with.

But she knew she'd probably have to.

She climbed out of her car (after considering throwing it in reverse and driving somewhere, _anywhere_ so long as it wasn't _there_ ) but she'd already driven around the neighborhood a good ten times and that was _after_ she'd taken the long way home from Reagan's, stretching a twenty minute drive to…

(she checked her phone)

an hour and change and now it was dark - like the house - and it was quiet and it was fucking _creepy_ and all she really wanted to do was go inside and sneak upstairs and slip into bed and fall asleep. It would all still be there in the morning and maybe the terrors wouldn't seem so… terrible… in the light of day.

They _would_ , she _knew_ , but she was too tired to care.

Lauren stepped through the front door and it was like she hit a wall, bumping up against the dark and the silence (and the creepy) (can't forget the creepy) and she paused, giving one last look back out at her car and doing the mental math on how long it would take her to get back to Dallas.

But she gave up on that when she couldn't even figure how long it would take to get back to the car.

Lauren couldn't remember the last time the house had been this quiet, so… _empty_ , there wasn't a single sound to be heard. Not the sounds of footsteps on the stairs (like, you know, someone racing to greet her) or the hum of the TV in the living room or the faint snuffle-sniffle-grunt of Farrah's 'I only had _one_ glass' snores from the couch. There was… _nothing_ and there was _a lot_ of it and that hadn't happened in a while, certainly not since her father left and definitely not any time _Karma_ was there.

She shut the door quietly behind her and even the click of the lock echoed around her like a gunshot and she took a sharp breath ( _not_ a gasp) and shuddered slightly in the dark, wondering - not for the first time - why there wasn't a fucking _light switch_ next to the damn door.

Secretly though, she was just a little grateful for the dark cause the dark, it hid a few of those terrors she knew were there. The dark meant not having to see the popcorn bowl she was sure was over there… _somewhere_ … on the coffee table. Dark meant not having to see blankets and pillows strewn over the couch, fluffy and comfy and _cuddly_ reminders of who'd been there while she was gone.

Who was _still_ there.

Someone's been sleeping in my bed and someone's been sleeping in my bed and someone's _still_ sleeping in my bed and yes, _my_ bed was _Amy's_ bed, really, but that was a fucking _detail_ and Lauren was too tired for _those_.

The dark she could handle because - right about then - the dark was her _friend_. But the quiet?

Well that was just fucking _creepy_.

It wasn't that Lauren didn't like quiet, she really did. She always had. It might have been an only child thing or a daddy who didn't know quite how to talk to her thing or a smarter, funnier and awesomer than everyone she knew thing, but Lauren had spent _a lot_ of time in quiet and she'd gotten… used to it. It was better when she tried to sleep and it was better when she tried to study and it was (mostly) better when she prepped herself for pageant after pageant (even if she missed the sound of her _mom_ then) (and _always_ ) and Lauren knew she did some of her best work in the quiet.

Until… you know… _recently_. When she'd started counting the work she did making Amy be very _not_ quiet as her _best_ work and so, yeah, she didn't mind noisy either.

Sometimes.

And there hadn't been this much quiet recently (or _ever_ ) not even with it being just her and Amy and Farrah (three Goldilocks and not a fucking _redheaded_ bear in sight.) The house was _never_ quiet even when it wasn't the _good_ noises she liked ( _loved_ ) so much. It wasn't her, usually, and except for those times when it was the _good_ noises, it wasn't often Amy. No, it was Mama Bear, cause since the day Bruce had moved out, Farrah had been a _machine_ , constantly puttering or fidgeting, always doing _something_ , even if that something was, more often than not, a whole lot of _nothing_.

Or a whole lot of driving Lauren _nuts_.

"She's rearranged the kitchen _seven_ times," Lauren complained to Amy on the day she couldn't find a mixing bowl she'd just used the night before. "I need a fucking map to find _anything_ and doesn't that annoy…"

Lauren had trailed off as Amy nodded and came over to her, pressing her against the counter, one hand trailing up under the hem of the tiny blonde's shirt, fingers dancing across the small of Lauren's back as she reached _over_ her, to the top shelf (of course the _top_ ), plucking down the bowl in question.

"Here you go," Amy said, kissing Lauren lightly on the nose and then disappearing upstairs with just a little bit of an extra wiggle to her walk and oh, did she make some noise _that_ night.

Lauren hung her keys on the hook by the door, the jingle of the metal practically a scream in the silence, and she tossed her jacket on the chair, or where the chair had been when she'd _left_ , but when she heard it hit the floor, she knew things had changed.

Again.

See, it wasn't _just_ the kitchen. Farrah had redecorated her bedroom twice, moved the living room furniture three times ( _four,_ apparently), bought and returned new patio furniture, and spent the rest of her free time (which was considerable enough that Lauren worried she'd been fired) constantly watching her iPad or her iPod or her iPhone (or her eye in the bottle of Pinot Grigio), obsessing over every detail of the growing collection of her weather reports that some - as _she_ put it - 'enthusiastic fan' (or, as Lauren put it, _stalker_ ) had uploaded to YouTube.

"What. The. _Fuck_ is going on with her?" Lauren asked Amy after the night (the _fourth_ night) Farrah 'fell asleep' on the couch with a glass of wine in her hand and her iPad on her face.

Amy shrugged and Lauren stood behind the couch - fuming - reminding her that _Farrah_ was supposed to be the adult and _they_ were supposed to be the kids and didn't they have enough to deal with without having to…

She trailed off ( _again_ ) as Amy came over to her, pinning her against the back of the couch with a long, slow, _deep_ kiss, and then ignoring Lauren's protests - faint as they were - as she slowly dropped down to her knees and Lauren spent the next half hour thanking _God_ for the powers of the Grigio.

Afterwards, safe and sound in her ( _Amy's_ ) bed, Lauren spoke again. "Aren't you worried about her?" she asked, her words soft against the skin of Amy's neck. "Even a little?"

Amy shrugged, again, and Lauren recognized the look in her eyes, the one she'd seen for so very long, like the _entire_ time Amy and Karma had faked it. The 'not gonna worry till I have to cause if I do it _before_ then I'll never do anything _else_ ' look.

"Didn't you hear her _before_?" Amy asked. "She's just trying… she's filling space. She used to talk to your dad like _all the time_ and now he's gone and you and I are always… _busy_ … and since talking to yourself would be kinda crazy…"

Farrah, it seemed, had settled for a _different_ and slightly more traditionally mid-life crisis kinda crazy.

She was… filling space.

Lauren bent down and picked her jacket up off the floor and fumbled in the dark to find the hook to hang it on and tried really really _really_ hard to not wonder if Amy was more like her mother than she knew.

The jacket hung, Lauren made her way - quietly and carefully - to the bottom of the stairs and looked up. She could (barely) see the light, the tiny sliver of it under Amy's door. She didn't have to have spent as many nights in Amy's room as she had to recognize it, to know the flicker and flash of Amy's laptop, of Netflix or a DVD.

So they were watching something which, given that it was _them_ , wasn't that unusual or alarming or worrisome. But it was so… _quiet_.

In Lauren's experience - which was _extensive_ , at least up until the last couple weeks - quiet meant headphones. With _her_ and Amy, quiet meant the two of them curled together, one ear bud for each, their heads tipped together on the one pillow, her staring at the screen and Amy (more often than not) staring at her, eyes focused on the way Lauren reacted, on the way _she_ saw things Amy had probably seen a dozen times over but she still watched anyway because now it was with _her_ and so it was _new._

But they weren't so new anymore and once the new was gone, once the thrill and the excitement and the rush of discovery slipped away...

Lauren tried (unsuccessfully) to _not_ think about how _Karma_ was up there (instead of her) and _Amy_ was up there ( _without_ her) and the door was _shut_ and it was so fucking…

No. No _fucking_. There was _no fucking_ and Lauren was _sure_ of _that_ because even if she and Amy weren't going to work out in the long run (or much more of the short one, she feared) there was no way Amy would ever do… _that_.

She wouldn't cheat. Not even with Karma… _especially_ not with Karma because Lauren know that if Karma gave Amy even the slightest hint - a _real_ hint and not just some easily misinterpreted look that could be jealousy or selfishness or fucking _gas_ \- that she might feel _that_ kinda way about her?

Amy would need days or weeks or maybe even _months_ to analyze and agonize and theorize that shit right into the fucking ground. If those two _ever_ got together, it would _never_ be some wham bam thank you ma'am secret little hookup.

 _That_ , Lauren knew, wasn't how Amy worked. She _knew_ how Amy worked.

She just didn't know how _they_ did anymore.

* * *

Amy wasn't like Lauren.

She wasn't tired, she wasn't even _close_. She _had_ been, like an hour and twenty minutes ago, when she'd been so worn out by _waiting_ on Lauren and _worrying_ about Lauren and _wondering_ why Lauren had lied (cause Amy had _always_ known Lauren's every fib) and _hoping_ that Lauren wasn't…

Tired.

Of her.

An hour and twenty minutes ago Amy had been fucking _exhausted_. She'd been just about to nod off in the middle of _House Hunters_ , totally missing which house they picked (it was never the _right_ one) and with only half her ice cream eaten and a wide awake Karma still rambling in her ear.

The show couldn't keep her attention and the food couldn't satisfy her appetite and Karma couldn't fill the void and Amy just let herself go, let herself teeter on the edge of sleep, fooling herself into thinking that when she woke, Karma would be gone and Lauren would be there and all would be right again.

But then Reagan had managed to keep her awake.

And _not_ in the good, enjoyable, sweaty, taught her a lot of things that Amy knew _Lauren_ enjoyed the benefits ofway that Reagan _used_ to keep her awake. No, this was more of the phone call out of the blue that made Karma get that… _look_ … on her face and made Amy get that… _pain_ … in her heart and yeah, there was no sleeping after _that_.

Amy wasn't sure she'd be sleeping again for a while.

There was a moment - a quick one - when Amy saw Reagan's name on the caller ID and her heart… well… it had done _something_. It wasn't a flutter and it didn't skip a beat and it didn't _hurt,_ not exactly. It had… _reacted_ … and Amy supposed it probably always would, at least as long as she and Reagan only talked in an every once in a _holy shit it's you_ kinda way. Though, Amy had agreed to lunch next week, so maybe they could start talking a little more but that was _so_ not the point.

The point _was_ that it had been a while - a longer while than Amy had realized - since her heart did _anything_ for _anyone_ (and by anyone, she totally meant Karma), a long stretch since the only person who got any kind of _reaction_ out of her was…

Lauren.

Which really didn't seem to shock Reagan.

"You can't seriously tell me you don't know how she feels," Reagan said and Amy didn't say _anything_ cause, well, Reagan had told her she _couldn't_ even if Amy _not_ knowing was the truth of the fucking matter.

Sort of.

"Shrimps," Reagan said (and Amy's heart… reacted… _again_ ), "I know sometimes you can be a little… Karma-like in how you see things."

Amy glanced over at the bed, at her best friend who was doing her best (which wasn't too _good_ ) to pretend she was still absorbed in the old school colonial with the bay window and the French doors on the screen and not paying any attention _at all_ to the phone call from… _her_.

"But really?" Reagan asked, snapping Amy's attention back to her and away from Karma and _wow_ was _that_ deja fuckin vu. "You can't be _that_ blind."

Well… _no_. Amy couldn't be _that_ blind.

Not unless she'd _wanted_ to be. Not unless she hadn't wanted to face it and yeah, she knew she was talking about something _good_ \- something fucking _amazing_ \- but good and amazing and Amy didn't go together all that well and what she and Lauren had was _pretty_ good and _pretty_ wonderful and _pretty near_ perfect and so, if Amy had maybe… _ignored_ … some of the signs and maybe… _pretended_ … not to see what was right in front of her face the whole fucking time so as to not risk losing all the… _pretty_?

Who could blame her?

She wondered that as Reagan kept talking (and talking) (and talking) (and somewhere, in the back of her mind, Amy started reconsidering lunch) and Amy kept listening, sort of, nodding along so Karma would think she was still paying attention and filling the brief silences with 'yeah' and 'uh huh' and the occasional 'I know' but her mind wasn't on the call and it wasn't on Reagan and it wasn't anywhere _near_ being on Karma.

It was on… well… _her_. And not her as in Lauren but her as in _her_ , as in herself, as in her mind and her feelings and her heart. Mostly her heart and mostly how it… reacted… the way it sped up every time Reagan got even close to saying Lauren's name and the 'l-word', the way it shook in her chest at the very _thought_ that Lauren might… _that_ … the way it felt like it was going to break when she heard Reagan's description of Lauren, of the way she was hurting, of the way she was scared and lost and so desperate that she'd gone to _her_ for answers.

Lauren had been walking a tightrope for weeks. She'd been treading a fine line, threading the tiniest of needles. She'd been trying to hold on, trying to keep on that line ever since the moment Karma (and then _everyone_ ) had found out about them, since the moment they had stopped being the dirty (in the _good_ way) little secret the two of them shared and started being…

Real.

And real meant _real_ and it meant _feelings_ and it meant _risk_ and Amy knew what _that_ meant to her, of all the memories and pain (most of it involving the girl on the _bed_ ) and Amy knew why real terrified the shit out of her, but she'd been so caught up in all _that_ , that she hadn't even thought of what it might mean to Lauren. She hadn't thought of the other girl walking that tightrope, as best she could, but eventually…

Fuck _eventually_.

The moment - the very fucking _second_ \- Lauren had seen them, Amy _and_ Karma, talking in the hall, she'd slipped. One foot bumped into the other and Lauren lost her balance and tumbled and yeah, she'd somehow managed to catch herself, for just a moment, her hands grabbing the rope but even Lauren was only _so_ strong and her grip was failing more by the day and now she just couldn't hold herself and she was falling and there was no net.

And Lauren didn't think… Lauren was _convinced_ Amy wouldn't be there to catch her.

Amy's heart… _reacted_ … to _that_. It reacted hard and fast and for a minute Amy couldn't breathe and even when Reagan finally stopped talking and Amy finally stopped pretending to listen and she hung up the phone, she was shaking and swallowing and trying to calm _the fuck down_ and then Karma finally stopped pretending _not_ to and she scooted over to the edge of the bed, taking one of Amy's hands in hers.

And for the first time in forever, _that_ didn't help at all.

"You OK?" Karma asked and if Amy thought she heard a little more _fear_ than _worry_ in Karma's voice, if she thought maybe her best friend sounded a bit like she was more concerned about _why_ Amy was _clearly_ not OK than how she actually felt?

Well, she wasn't wrong.

Amy shook her head, her breath finally starting to slow, and she dropped the phone on the bed, tired of clutching it most of the night, always waiting, always _hoping_ for another text or a call or a hint that Lauren would be home soon, that _she_ was _OK_ and that maybe _they_ would be too but now…

Now she _knew_ that call wasn't coming and she _knew_ there weren't going to be any texts and she _knew_ …

"She loves me."

The words just came out and the sound of them, the _thought_ of them warmed Amy inside and a smile flitted over her face even as Karma's eyes grew wide and her hand gripped Amy's tighter and there was a shake to her voice, a tremor as she said "Reagan?"

"What?" Amy snapped back to reality. " _Reagan_? No," she said, shaking her head and watching in confusion (and slowly dawning reality) as Karma's eyes narrowed and her grip tightened even more.

"Lauren," Karma said and Amy didn't nod or say a thing because _Karma_ was saying it all, with the set of her jaw and the anger burning in her eyes and the way her hand clutched at Amy's like she was afraid to let go even a little, and every bit of the best friend wanting to help even if she doesn't understand _thing_ , slipped away and oh, it was _so_ fucking clear.

Once upon a time, Amy would have been thrilled at _that_ , she would have done fucking _cartwheels_ at that cause it was _so_ obvious then, so not ambiguous and so not open to interpretation and so everything she thought she'd been waiting for.

But then there was the sound of a car in the drive, loud and close in the dark and quiet of the house and it hit her then and Amy didn't know how she'd ever missed it, even if she was fucking _trying_ to.

What she'd been waiting for?

 _It_ had found _her_.

She pulled her hand free (not without a little effort) and headed for her door, pausing only when Karma called her name.

"Where are you going?"

Across the hall, Amy thought. Where I should have been all along.

"I've got someone to catch," she said and the door clicked shut behind her, leaving Karma alone and confused in the dark.


	8. Once Upon a Time

It wasn't Lauren.

It wasn't her _car_ , actually, the one Amy heard in the drive. And _that_ meant she didn't hear a key in the lock or footsteps in the hall and all _that_ meant that it wasn't Lauren coming in, excited and happy and relieved to see Amy _there,_ in _her_ room and _her_ bed instead of across the hall with that _other_ her.

Which left Amy sitting there, alone in the dark, for what seemed like forever.

It wasn't _really_ forever (in the end it wasn't even like twenty _minutes_ ) but it seemed so much longer. It _seemed_ like forever, at least to Amy, what with Reagan's voice still echoing in her ears and that look on Karma's face still playing over and over again before her eyes and what with the feel of Lauren's bed - so familiar and yet so different and new and yet so _right_ (and just a little dirty) - underneath her. It felt like days or weeks, like she was waiting on the end of time and it just _refused_ to fucking get there, and Amy tensed at every sound, flinched at every noise, damn near jumped out of her skin at every creak and moan of the house.

Not a one of which was actually Lauren.

It didn't happen all at once, it didn't even happen right away, but slowly (and _so_ surely) _that_ all got to be a bit too much. The anticipation turned to fear (what if she'd been in an accident?) and the nerves turned to panic (what if Amy was too late?) and the worry turned to hands clutching at Lauren's duvet as Amy tried to get control of her breathing, tried to steady it before it went and took on a life of its own, before it got to be too much for the rest of her and Lauren - when she _finally_ came home - ended up finding Amy passed out in her bed, hyperventilated right into unconsciousness.

That would _not_ be good.

And it wasn't like that was the _only_ way for this to all go 'not good' (or not _well_ or _whatever_ ) and seeing as how there were so _many_ not goods, Amy didn't really see a need to add another one to the list, so she took slow, deep breaths and counted to five and shut her eyes against the dark (and wondered why she hadn't thought to turn on the damn light) and tried to focus, tried to steer her mind to what she was going to do when Lauren walked in, what she was going to say.

Amy tried - for once in her life - to not let herself get caught up in the moment, to not just _react_ and to think and plan and actually be _ready_.

Yeah. Like _that_ ever had a chance.

It might have, maybe, possibly (no, it fucking _wouldn't_ have) if _that_ hadn't been the moment, if _that_ hadn't been the instant when those creaks and groans of the house were - very _clearly_ \- not just creaks or groans but _steps_. _Foot_ steps, in the hall, outside the door, tearing through the silence of the house and kickstarting the thwump-thwump-thwump of Amy's racing heart in her ears. It was shock, she thought, that did it. It was just so _sudden_ , the slamming realization that now was _now_ and that now was _here_ and oh… _fuck_ … she had no plan and she had no _clue_ what she was going to do and definitely no idea what she was going to _say_ cause every word she knew had just fled her brain on a supersonic flight to fucking nowhere. It was all happening so _fast._

And _that_ was all just so much _bullshit_.

None of this was happening _fast_. None of it was quick and none of it was a shock, not if she really thought about it. If Amy did _that_ , if she let herself replay it all in her head, she _knew_ the truth. Nothing - not one single moment of… _them_ … not since that first maybe accidental but not even _close_ to a mistake first kiss - had been _sudden_. All of it, everything since that moment, had been building and building and _building_ , scaffolding up and up on itself, sneaking up on her and slowly burrowing its way into her life and her bed and her _heart_ and now…

Now it was _here_. And all Amy could think was that she wished she'd had more time.

Amy found herself wishing Lauren had stayed out later (really, that Lauren had never gone in the first place, but…) and that maybe she'd had the night to sleep on it (like she would have slept a fucking _wink_ ) just so she could make sure she knew _exactly_ what she wanted to say because she didn't want to say even one thing _wrong_ (though it seemed like she probably already had) (and that most of those _wrongs_ involved the word - the _name_ \- of the girl still sitting across the hall.)

Or, maybe, Amy thought, _more likely_ , it wasn't the things she'd _said_ that were wrong.

It was the ones she _hadn't_.

Amy heard those steps in the hall and she tensed - her fingers crushing the duvet - and she felt her heart go a-racing from the shock.

Or maybe, she thought, _more likely_ (and yes, she was sensing a pattern) it wasn't the shock that was doing it. Maybe, _more likely_ , her heart was reacting to the _girl_ and not to the _sound_. Maybe her heart hadn't skipped a beat in fear, maybe it had just sped up in anticipation, the way it _always_ did when she saw Lauren, when she saw her coming down the hall or brushing her teeth in the morning or whenever the tiny blonde snuck into her room in the morning for a quick kiss that never ended up being quick (or just _one_.)

Or _maybe_ , Amy thought, her heart was actually _slowing_ , it was calming and finding some peace and relief in knowing that Lauren was finally home and whatever reasons she'd had for taking so long to get there didn't really matter anymore cause Lauren was home and Lauren was safe and _now_ Amy could get her heart back under control and back to normal or - really - whatever the hell _passed_ for normal now because Amy had finally realized that when it came to Lauren and her heart, there wasn't a normal anymore and she had no control over that - or it - _at all_.

And now, thanks to Reagan, Amy had realized something else.

She probably should have told _Lauren_ that.

She was about to get her chance.

* * *

It wasn't Lauren.

The door creaked open and Amy had to blink against the sudden light - the flashes and flickers from her own room - that split the dark and haloed their way around the figure in the door like she was some sort of… angel.

A Karma shaped angel.

Well... _fuck._

Someone, Amy decided - God or fate or the universe or all of the fucking above - had a truly sick sick _sick_ sense of humor. Or just hated her.

Or, you know, _both_.

It wasn't Lauren coming in, it was… the _other_ one… and it killed Amy, at least a little, to think of Karma like _that_ , but it killed her - like _a lot_ \- to even think of Karma at all right _then_ and right _there_ and if she hadn't been panicked before, Amy was sure she was now, sure that yes, the night was _indeed_ full of terrors, the kind it seemed there was no help for, the kind nothing could stand against.

Her hottie DJ couldn't and a summer apart couldn't and even the might of Liam Booker's magic peen couldn't.

Amy suddenly understood _exactly_ what Lauren was so scared of. And she didn't blame her in the slightest.

"Amy?" Karma asked, blinking her eyes to adjust, trying to spot the blonde somewhere out there in the dark. "Are you there?"

Of course she was there. She was always there.

Amy knew she shouldn't have been surprised that it wasn't Lauren (she hadn't heard a car or a key) or that it _was_ Karma because… well… _of course_ it was. It had _always_ been Karma. It had been Karma for Reagan and it had been Karma for every girl Amy had met or kissed or even _talked_ to over the summer. But those weren't the problem.

The problem was - _always_ was - that it was _always_ Karma for _Amy_.

"Yeah," Amy said, wishing she hadn't. "I'm here."

She was sitting in the dark, but everything was suddenly so… _light_ … for Amy. So clear. She saw it all just as Lauren did. It had always _been_ Karma, it _was_ Karma, it was always _going to be_ her. Karma was why they kissed - that first time - and Karma was why Amy had outed them to everyone and Karma was why Amy said 'mine' and Karma was why Amy had promised 'you run, I chase' because Amy just couldn't do or think or _feel_ on her own. It was all just…

 _Karma._

It wasn't, of course, it wasn't her at all. Not for Amy.

Another thing she probably should have told Lauren.

"It is true?" Karma asked - whispered, like she was afraid to say it out loud - and even that soft, her voice carried in the silence of the house and Amy almost told her not to shout.

Amy didn't answer her. She didn't move and she didn't speak but she did wonder if, maybe, if she didn't do much of _anything_ , if she didn't even so much as breathe, if (like magic) (like some real Harry Potter level shit and not that David Blaine _crap_ ) she could just vanish, if she could just fade away into the dark, leaving Karma there just talking to herself.

She had to admit, it wasn't the _worst_ thought, vanishing _before_ Lauren got back and saw Karma there - the truck in the drive and her shoes by the door and Karma herself, half in and half out of Amy's room and, really, was there ever a more _obvious_ metaphor - and she had to watch the equally inevitable shut down, watch the way Lauren's eyes would slowly die right there in front of her, watch her girlfriend fold in on herself and…

"She'd be rude," Amy whispered. "She'd be rude and she'd be mean and sarcastic and sassy and snippy and cut us both off at the knees."

"What?" Karma asked, the whisper gone.

"Lauren," Amy said, trying to get her fingers to relax, to release the duvet and the tension, but it wasn't working. "If she saw you here and she thought… she'd go _mean_."

Karma took a step into the room, the door shutting softly behind her and if it hadn't been so dark she might have noticed the small scootch Amy made further away on the bed. "It's Lauren we're talking about," she said. "She's _always_ mean."

"Not to me," Amy said. _Not anymore_ , she thought.

She was never quite sure when _that_ happened, when it _changed_ , but at some point Lauren had stopped being… _Lauren_. At least around her, at least when it was _them_. Amy had seen it, a little, had watched it happen long before the kiss.

At first it was just Lauren _not_ tuning her out, Lauren actually _listening_. And that was one thing when it was because Amy was _trying_ , because Amy trying was most often trying to talk about _her_ , about how she was dealing with the Theo breakup (just _fine_ , thanks) or her moment in the sun as the Savior of Hester (not nearly as much fun as the movies make it out to be.)

And when Amy's texts and calls and Skypes over the summer were all for _her_ (and none for Karma cause that would have kinda defeated the point) and it slowly became _both_ of them trying and Lauren wasn't just listening but she was _talking_ and she was _nice_ , it was impossible for Amy _not_ to see it.

Or, if she was being honest, to fall for it. Hard.

"Yeah, well," Karma said, "she's _still_ like that. You saw how she made Brandi cry in gym class last week."

And Brandi had spent most of the morning making snide comments about Narcs and people not being able to see people for who they really are and how some people were so desperate for love they'd do _anything_. Or be _anything_.

If Lauren hadn't cut her with words, Amy might have just _cut_ her.

"Maybe she's nice to you," Karma said, stressing the 'maybe' just a little more than Amy was comfortable with. "But she's still a bitch to other people."

And _that_ was just it, wasn't it? Somewhere, somehow, sometime, Amy had stopped being _other_ people. Even before the kiss and certainly _after_ it (and, without a doubt by the time Lauren had run crying from Reagan's apartment) Amy was anything _but_ other.

"Unless… maybe… _except_ as in… 'other' _half_." Amy mumbled, her thoughts jumbling and stumbling and bumbling their way out of her mouth and she'd half forgotten Karma was even there.

But she _was_.

"What?" Karma asked. "Other _half?_ As in… _Lauren_? As in _yours?_ "

It wasn't the words that got Amy's attention, it was the _tone_ , it was the _sound_ , it was the way Karma's voice knifed its way through the dark, the anger and the pain and the anger and the denial (and did she mention the _anger?)_ that dripped off her voice like rain off a roof.

" _Lauren_ is not your _other half_ , Amy," Karma snapped. She took three more steps into the room, putting herself front and fucking center, right where Amy would have been looking if she'd been looking anywhere but down at her hands. "I don't know _what_ the two of you _are_ , but it's not _that_."

Because _that_ was _them_ and that had _always been_ them and that would _always be_ them.

"You're right," Amy said and she could hear the exhale of relief from her best friend. "Lauren isn't my other _half_. That makes her sound… incomplete. Like she's something less without me and there's nothing… less… about her."

Karma glared (not that Amy could see) (or was looking) into the dark. That wasn't what she'd _meant_ Not _at all_. Lauren wasn't Amy's other half cause Lauren _couldn't_ be Amy's other half cause that job was already _taken_.

"You're doing it again," Karma said, not that Amy had the first fucking clue what _it_ was. "This is Reagan all over again."

 _That_ got Amy's attention which, usually, was a good thing for Karma.

If she could have seen Amy's face in the dark, she might have known. This?

 _Not_ usually.

"Reagan?" Amy asked, half intrigued, half confused, and already _all_ annoyed (and about three-quarters _pissed_.)

"Yes," Karma said. She took a half step toward the bed, but something (sixth sense, intuition, the tone of Amy's voice forcing a slow but long overdue realization to start sinking in) made her think better of it. "You were just like this with Reagan," she said. "Jumping in with both feet and gung fucking ho and not thinking about how much you didn't know."

"I didn't know?" Amy's hands twitched around the duvet. Later - much much _much_ later - she'd actually be grateful to Karma for, at least, easing her nerves.

Karma nodded, the gesture just barely visible. "You two were _so_ different and so _wrong_ for each other in the end, but you didn't know…" She took another halting step. "Did you even know her last name?"

The duvet dropped from Amy's hands as they balled into fists in her lap. "And you're telling me I don't know Lauren? Is that it?"

"What I'm saying," Karma said, "is that you're going in _blind_. You're not thinking clearly, you're just so… so…"

"So _what_ , Karma?" Amy asked, those fists pressing hard against her thighs. "I'm so _what?"_

"Desperate."

The word fell from Karma's lips before she had a chance to stop it, before she could realize that even if she was right (which she _wasn't_ ) and even if she had a point (which she _didn't_ ) that was probably not the best way to put it.

It wasn't.

It _so_ wasn't.

"Desperate?" Amy asked, stressing the 't' at the end, practically spitting it out.

"Not like… well…" Karma realized the hole she'd dug herself _and_ that the only way out that might work was straight on _through_. "Yes," she said. "Desperate. You're so desperate to get over me, _again_ , and so desperate to _prove_ it and so desperate to find someone that you're latching onto the first thing that comes along." She took those last couple steps and - intuition be _damned_ \- sat on the bed next to Amy. " _That's_ what Lauren is, Amy," Karma said. "Not your other half or the love of your life or your _soulmate_. She's just the first available option. That's what she is for you and you are for her and I'm sorry to say it like that but you're in too deep and I don't want to see you get hurt."

Amy sat there. Still and silent.

"It took you a long time to get over Reagan," Karma said. "And we both know how long it's taken you to… well… we _know_." She laid a gentle hand atop Amy's, trying not to be concerned at the tight tight _tight_ fist her best friend was clenching. "I don't want you to end up spending months trying to get over someone who's never really even been _under_ you."

There was a moment - an evil, mean, nasty, Lauren at her _worst_ moment - when Amy considered telling Karma (in _great_ detail) exactly _how_ under her Lauren had been. But instead…

"It did take me a long time to get over Reagan," Amy said. "She was my first." She felt Karma's hand tense against hers. "And you're right, it would take me _months_ to get over Lauren. Maybe longer. Maybe never."

Amy reached over and gently lifted Karma's hand from hers, dropping it back in the other girl's lap.

"But," Amy said. "I can tell you _this_. I am, without a doubt, without any question or reservation or exception, one _thousand_ percent over _you_."

She stood, the sudden shift in the mattress toppling Karma over onto her back.

"Amy," she said, "wait -"

"Waiting," Amy said, "at least for _you_ , is the _last_ fucking thing I'm going to be doing." She moved across the room, knowing it perfectly even in the dark, and swung open Lauren's door. "It's late, Karma," she said. "And Lauren is going to be here soon and she and I have a lot to talk about."

"Amy," Karma tried _again_.

"I said it's _late_ ," Amy snapped. "It's late and I'm tired… tired of _this_. I wasn't ready with Reagan and I wasn't ready last summer but…" She gripped the doorknob tightly, surprised she wasn't leaving finger grooves in the metal. "I'm tired of letting _this_ be what everything in my life is about and it shouldn't be because it _isn't_ what my life is about."

Karma stood, a rising shadow. "And _she_ is?"

Amy shook her head, wondering how she had never noticed it before, how she had never really _seen_ how all or nothing Karma always was.

" _She_ ," Amy said. "Is a part of it. A big part, a _huge_ part, _as_ big a part as anyone."

She couldn't see it, in the dark, but Amy could imagine the way Karma paled at that, the way that thought _killed_ her.

"You think you're in love with her, don't you?"

"I don't _think_ about how I feel, Karma," Amy replied, trying to soften her tone, trying to keep things from going even further off the rails than they already had. "I _know_. But I'm not going to talk about that with you."

"Why not?" Karma asked, her voice small and hurt and the words tasted just a touch bitter on her tongue. "We used to talk about everything."

"And maybe we still can," Amy said. "But if I'm going to say _that_ , it's not for _you_. It's for _her_ and it's for _me_ and maybe once upon a time everything that was for me was for _us_ too but…" Amy sighed. She just wanted Karma to go and Lauren to come and for this all to be done. "But it's not once upon a time anymore, Karma. And you?"

Karma crossed the room, coming to a stop right in front of Amy, just inside - still - the door. "Me _what_?" she whispered, her voice dropping as Amy slowly started to close the door, ushering her out into the dark hall. She heard Amy's last words through the door. Through _Lauren's_ door.

" _You're_ not my happily ever after anymore."


	9. Almost

She almost made it.

 _Almost._

And if that - if _almost_ \- wasn't just the perfect fucking story of her life, Lauren didn't know what was.

She was almost a 'regular' girl (no fucking way, no fucking _how_ was she ever going to say 'normal'.) She was almost enough to keep her father in Austin. She was almost enough to make Theo quit his stupid job and she was almost good enough in school to make valedictorian and she was almost friends with Shane and she was almost Farrah's daughter.

She was almost enough for Amy.

Almost, Lauren had decided _long ago_ , was almost _enough_. She could live with almost, she _had_ lived with it over and over and over again and every time she did, it was… well… it was _almost_ enough to break her, it was almost enough to make her stand up and say 'no', it was almost enough to push her _past_ enough. Every _other_ time had almost been _the_ time, the time when almost enough stopped _being_ enough and she finally stopped letting it.

Lauren had thought… no… not _thought_ ('thought' was just another almost, almost a 'sure', almost a 'know' and that was one more almost than she could take)... Lauren had been _certain_ that _this_ time would be just like those other times. She'd _known_ \- for the entire weekend _probably_ , for every moment she spent stalling her way home and for every minute she'd sat in Reagan's apartment and for every second she spent behind the wheel, just prolonging the inevitable, _definitely_ \- that this would end the same.

She'd get home and she'd go to bed alone and she'd wake up the same and maybe there wouldn't be a big blow out, maybe there wouldn't be screams and tears (Lauren would be _fucked_ if she let anyone see her shed a single one of _those_ because of _Karma_ ) and maybe she and Amy would just drift back apart, back to their respective lanes and they'd just stay in those, forever and ever, amen.

"What happens?" Amy asked her once. "What happens to _us_ , I mean, if _this_ doesn't work?"

Lauren had been glad that _that_ night had been much like _this_ one - dark and quiet - and she'd had her back to Amy in bed so that made it easier to pretend that she couldn't hear the fear ( _terror_ ) in her girlfriend's voice _and_ that she didn't feel it herself.

"We're family," she said. "Maybe it would be a different kind, but that…" Lauren paused for a moment - just _one -_ "but that will _never_ change."

After that first kiss and after 'mine' and after… well… _everything_ , Lauren had made herself promise. She'd _sworn_ (out loud to the mirror) that she would never lie to Amy, not about _anything_. That night, Amy nodded and held her just a little tighter and Lauren spent the rest of that very very _very_ long night listening to her slow and steady breathing and trying, so very hard, to convince herself that she hadn't broken that vow and by morning, she was just so very _sure_ that she hadn't.

It was easier that way. It was easier to lie to _herself_.

Lauren was sure that this time was going to be no different. Soon she and Amy would be nothing more than they'd ever been. People who saw each other across the table in the morning and shared a ride to school sometimes and smiled when they passed each other in the halls and no, she wouldn't miss sharing food (Amy always ate the good stuff anyway) and no, she wouldn't miss being distracted from her homework (Calculus was more important than _kisses_ ) and no, she _definitely_ would not miss the nights when they didn't even _do_ anything, when 'sleeping together' was actually _sleeping_ together.

This time would be no different and she'd known that all along because maybe this time _wasn't_ her daddy leaving another woman ( _her_ , this time) and maybe it _wasn't_ Theo proving that anything that seems too good to be true usually is, but it _was_ something just as certain, just as constant, just as _always_.

How was it Shane had put it? Oh, _right_. "You know Amy and Karma are going to make up," he said. "It's written in the stars."

Fucking _stars_.

And all the evidence Lauren needed was right fucking there. The truck in the street, the blankets and half eaten bowl of popcorn downstairs (and no, she hadn't actually _seen_ those but she didn't _have_ to), the faint flickering light trickling out from under Amy's bedroom door.

The stars had spoken.

Lauren snuck in as quietly as she could ( _almost_ silently, you might say) (and then she might punch you in the face) and she made her way up the stairs as cautiously and as carefully and as sneakily as she could manage, taking extra pains to avoid the squeaky step near the bottom and the wobbly railing in the middle. And she almost made it.

Almost, but not quite, and if 'not quite' came in a very specific redheaded package standing at the top of the stairs, well, Lauren wasn't really surprised.

It was Karma because _of course_ it was Karma. It was always Karma and it was probably (no, not _probably,_ more like _almost_ definitely, yeah that _fit_ ) always _going_ to be Karma and that, it seemed to Lauren, might just be the whole fucking problem.

Though, if Lauren was being honest (even though it seemed like recently she'd been almost anything _but_ ) it seemed like maybe Karma was mostly just _her_ problem and not, you know, _Amy's_.

And _that_ (no might about it) _was_ the problem.

Lauren sighed and leaned against the railing. She wouldn't look, she steadfastly _refused_ to meet Karma's gaze, even in the dark (and _see_ , she was _right_ , it was full of _terrors_.) She knew this was all that inevitable she'd been prolonging and if _that_ wasn't so inevitably _sad_ and _ridiculous_ and _perfectly fucking her_ , Lauren might have had to laugh.

Cause it was, you know, _almost_ funny.

"Is it true?" Karma asked and Lauren winced, gripping the railing. She always thought Karma was loud - mostly in the bad fashion and desperate for approval and how does anyone have that much _energy_ for that much _ridiculousness_ kinda way - but it was so quiet (everywhere but in her _head_ ) that even the sound of those three little words (and what the fuck was 'it' _anyway_?) was like a knife slicing through the dark and Lauren flinched back, dodging a blow that never really came.

She didn't need the blow though, she didn't need an actual cut or actual blood. Lauren didn't need a physical reminder or, really, she didn't need _another_ one cause she had one, standing _right fucking there_ and _God_ , had she actually really _truly_ ever thought Karma was going to be _gone_?

Lauren sank down along the wall, settling on the next to last step from the top. "One weekend," she muttered, mostly to herself, a sense of defeat washing over her. "Three fucking _days_."

"What?"

Lauren didn't look up even then. It wasn't like she could see Karma anyway - she was just an amorphous blob of slightly less dark in the really dark of the hall - but it was a… _pride_ … thing and, really, when it came right down to it, _that_ was about all she had left, so no, Lauren didn't look and she didn't answer and she just… stared.

There wasn't much to see, there wasn't much she _could_ see, even after her eyes had adjusted to the dark. There was her hand in front of her face and there was the railing she still clung to and there was the top step. _That_ she _could_ see, if only barely, just a tiny sliver of stair standing out in the dark. It was, in a way, all that divided her from Karma, all that stood between them (ah, irony, such a fucking _bitch_ ) and Lauren stared and stared and refused to look away.

It was unclaimed territory, a blank spot where no one had stuck their flag (red and yellow for Karmy and… well… Lauren didn't know what Cooperfeld's flag would look like cause, let's face it, she'd been too busy _getting_ busy with Amy to design a fucking _flag_.) That step was the last line in the sand, the last bit of ground Lauren could stand on before she stepped back into the world where Karma was _there_ and she _wasn't_.

And she wasn't quite ready to concede that just yet. So she sat.

"What about three days?" Karma asked (again) and Lauren had _almost_ forgotten how tenacious Karma could be, how she could just never fucking let something go even when ( _especially_ when) it was the most unimportant thing _ever_.

See: Booker, Liam.

Lauren sighed and let her head rest against the railing. "I was gone for one weekend," she said, only because she knew if she didn't speak, Karma _would_. "Three days… not _even_ … and yet, here you are already, _back_ , like you never even _left_."

 _Like Amy never_ made _you._

"I _didn't_ ," Karma snapped - and was she really even _more_ defensive than usual? - "I didn't leave and I never… " She paused, but Lauren didn't notice. "Amy's _here_ ," she said. "And wherever Amy -"

"Yeah, I _know_ ," Lauren cut her off. She didn't want to _hear_ it, _thinking_ it had been quite _enough_ , thank you. "Wherever she is and whoever…" She trailed off and reconsidered cause, really, that was a pointless road that just led to more… _stuff_ … that Lauren had no desire to deal with, not right then and not with… _her_. "You're _always_ there," she said and she, well, you know.

She almost stopped.

But then she didn't.

"Always there, even if you're not always… _wanted_."

Lauren had been _so_ sure this one was going to end like all the other ones and she'd been almost… no, she hadn't been almost _OK_ with it, she'd been anything but fucking _OK_ , but she could have dealt, she could have made it through, she could have _lived_.

Right up until she couldn't. Right up until that fucking blob in the dark and maybe if she could have actually _seen_ Karma, maybe it would have been different, maybe if she'd seen the little (not so fucking little, she was sure) glint of victory in Karma's eyes it would have been just too much and she would have cracked and she would have run and she would have pushed the other girl aside and crashed into her room and buried herself under her duvet and that would have been that.

Except…

Except, she _couldn't_ see Karma and she _couldn't_ see that glint (and she couldn't _know_ it wasn't there) and - _fuck all_ \- the dark _was_ full of terrors and _Goddammit_ once upon a time there had been no bigger terror than Lauren Cooper and when the _fuck_ did _that_ change?

" _Amy_ wants _me_ ," Karma snapped. "And you _know_ it."

If Lauren had been a little less intent on… _terror_ … and maybe a little less pissed and a little (lot) less hurt and if she'd known she still had something (someone) to lose, she might have paid more attention and she might have heard it in Karma's voice, that little tremor (that fucking _earthquake)_ of worry (or doubt) (or fear) (or _loss_ ) (take your pick) rolling just under her words.

"Of course she does, Karma," Lauren said, like it was the most obvious thing ever cause it kinda _was_. "There are, really, very few absolute truths in this world. So many things, they just _change,_ even when you least expect it _._ " Lauren stared at that top step, still refusing to look at the other girl, even as she spoke. "Sometimes up is down and sometimes right is left but, _by God_ , Amy will _always_ want you and _you_ will always want _to be wanted_ and _those_ are truths you can live your fucking life by."

Karma took a couple of shuffling steps forward in the dark. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Her words were sharp and pointed and _angry_ , but those steps… they were slow and they were hesitating and it seemed like Karma's footing was… _unsure_.

 _Finally_ , Lauren thought, _something we have in common._

Lauren's eyes drifted and she caught sight of that glow from under Amy's door. Across the hall, her own room was dark.

Nothing to see _here_ , move it along, nothing to _see_ …

"It means, I'm tired," Lauren said, as she shut her eyes and let that little bit of light disappear into the dark. "I'm tired of trying to make her see and I'm tired of waiting around for you to make her blind again and I'm just… I'm tired, Karma. I'm fucking _tired_."

Karma, as Karma _did_ , ignored most of it and focused on the _her_ part. "Make her see what?" she asked. "How horrible I am? How _evil_?" She was spitting now, practically snarling the words at Lauren. "All you want is for me to be the villain."

That wasn't _all_ Lauren wanted but it was a start. "If the ruby slippers fit..." she said.

"Fuck _you_ , Lauren." Karma took a few more steps, drawing to the edge of that top stair. "You were a bitch when you came here, you _hated_ her and you tried to _ruin_ us."

True. True. And… wait for it… _true_.

"Yeah," Lauren said. "I tried to tell everyone that you two were faking your sexual orientation _and_ a relationship just to be popular." She stared at the edge of that step like it was the edge of a cliff and she was barreling toward it at top fucking speed. "Oh, wait, it wasn't _just_ to be popular, was it?"

Lauren pulled herself up, stood right against the back of that _almost_ the top step, looking right at Karma (or, you know, the _blob_.)

"Tell me, Karma," she said. "How _was_ Liam? As a boyfriend, I mean, cause I'm sure he was just _great_ at the sex part, what with all the practice, but really, was he as good a boyfriend as Amy was a _best_ friend?"

Karma didn't say a word - and maybe that should have told Lauren something - but she _did_ take one step (a _tiny_ one, but a _definite_ one) back.

Lauren wasn't done, though. "I mean, was he _worth_ it?" she asked. "Was he worth breaking Amy's heart?"

Karma held her ground, barely. "That… that wasn't about _him_ ," she said. And maybe ( _again_ ) the way she choked out the words should have told Lauren something. "Even if there'd been no Liam I wouldn't… Amy and I… I'm _not_ …"

"Yeah," Lauren said, that one word sharpened like a fucking dagger. "You're _not_."

 _That_ wasn't all she wanted to say, it wasn't even _close_. Lauren had other words, so many of them, so many more deadly little daggers she could let fly, every one of them just itching to be turned loose.

"And _you_ are?"

"I am," Lauren said, even if she didn't know _exactly_ which 'am' they were talking about. "I _am_ … unlike you, _not_ straight. And I _am_ sick of watching you break her and then put her back together so you can do it all over again. And I _am_ … _Goddamit_ … even now, even after all… _this_ … I _am_ going to stay, no matter how much it kills me cause _I_ can't leave _her_ cause I _am_ so fucking in love with her that I'd even put up with _you_."

There was a sound - a _sob_ \- in the dark but Lauren was on a roll and she'd finally realized that she had to face it, that there was not getting around it - around _her_ \- even if really, Karma wasn't in the way, she was across the hall from where Lauren was going. Not that _that_ was where Lauren _wanted_ to go, but what she wanted wasn't what she _needed_.

What she needed was _Amy_ , but _also_ to finally fucking _say_ it - _all_ of it - even if _technically_ it wouldn't actually change anything. Because, _technically_ , Lauren was about a mile and a fucking half past _technicalities_ and _niceties_ and all the _courtesies_ that she paid Karma only because _of_ Amy and, most of all - since, you know, she'd already _lost_ the girl - Lauren was like halfway to fucking _Mars_ past giving even one single teeny tiny _fuck_ about _Karma_.

"Amy may… _I_ may not be _hers_ anymore," Lauren said, hopping up onto that last step and claiming it, flag or no fucking flag. "And maybe she's already over me and back onto you but I'm not over her and I may _never_ be over her but I am _so so so_ over _you_ and your possessive ways and how only acknowledge that she has _real_ feelings when they're about _you_ bullshit."

Lauren took one more step, up onto the landing, standing there in the dark with Karma, between Amy's room and her own. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many 'crimes' she wanted to call Karma on the carpet for, so many slights (real _and_ imagined), but in the end, only one really mattered.

"Maybe, " Lauren said, "just fucking _maybe_ , if you had just stayed… not _gone_ … but… stayed _over there_ , out of it, out of the damn way…" She shook her head and clenched her fists and refused, just simply _refused_ to cry. "If you could've just let it happen," she said, "maybe Amy could have loved me too."

Karma's voice was so quiet, and so drowning in tears Lauren couldn't see, that the tiny blonde almost didn't hear her. "She does."

"What?"

"She said she does," Amy's voice cut through the dark and Lauren almost jumped out of her skin. " And I _do_." Amy said from behind her. "Love you, that is."

Lauren turned, blinking her eyes against the light coming from her room, from the _open_ door of her room, from behind _Amy_ standing in _her_ room.

" _What_?"

(It was almost all she could manage.)

And then Karma was off, darting down the steps in the dark and Lauren looked back, watching her run - and not understanding, like _at all_ \- and when she turned back, Amy was there and not _just_ there, but _right there_ , right in front of her and that… well… that _couldn't_ be _right_.

 _Right_?

"You're here," Lauren said, barely managing to not make it a question. "I mean, obviously you're _here_ but I mean you're… _here_ and she's…" She looked back down the stairs in the direction Karma had gone, the front door slamming shut behind her. "Don't you want to -"

And then Lauren knew she'd been wrong.

She'd been _so_ wrong and Amy was reminding her - forcefully with lips and hands on cheeks and then arms around her, pulling Lauren close - that Calculus was nowhere _near_ better than kisses and then when Amy took her hands and led her into the room - without breaking the much better than math kiss - and kicked the door shut behind them, Lauren had a sneaking suspicion that sleeping together wasn't going to involve much actual _sleeping_ at all.

But just before Amy pushed her down onto the bed, Lauren broke the kiss and stepped back, with confusion and worry (and just a bit of hope) flitting behind her eyes and she didn't want to say it (cause saying meant less kissing and that was just _wrong_ ) but she _had_ to ask.

"You… _you_ love _me_?"

Amy smiled and she nodded and she moved closer again, her hands finding their way under Lauren's shirt, her fingers dancing along the small of Lauren's back as their lips danced along each other's and then they were backing up with slow and unsteady steps until Lauren bumped against the bed and fell back. She grabbed for Amy and pulled her right down along with her, the two of them landing in a so _not_ romantic heap, laughing as the bed shook.

Lauren curled onto her side, slipping one leg between Amy's, her hand on the other girl's hip, clutching at Amy's sleep shorts like she was afraid she might disappear, her forehead resting against the other girl's chest.

It was almost perfect.

And then Amy's hand slid up, tracing the length of Lauren's spine and up across her neck and Lauren shuddered as Amy's fingers tangled in her hair and she bent down close, whispering in her ear.

"I love you."

 _Fuck_ almost. It _was_.

Perfect.


End file.
